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Pierre and His Poodle 


I 









PlEQCf: BIOS MINKA GOODBYE 


Pierre and His Poodle - 


Elizabeth W. Champney 

Ji 

Author of Witch Winnie f ‘‘ Paddy O' Leary and 
His Learned Pigy" etc. 


With Illustrations by F. D. Steele 



New York ^ 


*y 


Dodd, Mead and Company 
1897 



Copyright, 1897 

By Dodd, Mead and Company 


A ll rights reserved 


SSnibersttg 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S. A. 


CONTENTS 


^ • 

Chapter Page 

I. An Elopement i 

II. Pierre goes in Search of Popotte 26 

III. The Adventures of Popotte and 

Zulu 45 

IV. Pierre enters the Service of the 

Lion-tamer 64 

V. The Evil Eye 90 

VI. At Robinson Crusoe’s Town . . . 113 

VII. Of the Wicked Schemes of Signor 

Stromboli 145 

VIII. The Swamp Adder and the Pil- 
grimage Pardon 167 

IX. The Chantilly Races. — The Charm 

RECOILS 195 


\ 






LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Page 

Pierre bids Minka good-bye .... Fro7itispiece 

Popotte meets Zulu 7 ^ 

Rigolette and Rigolo 17 

Rigolette 25 , 

Pierre sees many Wonderful Sights at the Fete 

des Loges 38 V 

Signor Stromboli and his Van 50 v 

Pierre makes the Tiger’s Toilet 68 v 

The Lion-tamer rescues Pierre no 

Minka makes a Perilous Leap .:.... 141 ^ 

Nagy Pal 144 v 

Signor Stromboli in Disguise 161 4 

Signor Stromboli 166 

Minka seeks Popotte by Night I 7 S 




Chapter 1 



If Popotte and Zulu had not fallen in love 
almost at first sight, and made up their minds 
to elope together, the series of strange adven- 
tures consequent on this inconsiderate act 
would not have befallen them, and this story 
would never have been written. 

Popotte and Zulu were two French poodles, 
but in widely differing stations in life. Zulu 
was a genius in his way, affectionate, unself- 
ish, and faithful to the death ; but he was as 
black, and as ignorant of good society, as the 
Africans for whom he was named, and his 
master was the gypsy proprietor of a troupe 
of performing dogs : while Popotte was a 


2 


Pierre and His Poodle 


pampered little aristocrat, with a valet to 
comb her silky white hair, to care for her 
collars and ribbons, her little coats and over- 
shoes. She had a velvet cushion on a gilded 
tabaret in the grand salon, close beside the 
faiiteiiil of the Marquise ; she was allowed to 
come to the table at dessert and to receive her 
canard (a lump of sugar dipped in black 
coffee) from the Marquise’s own jewelled 
fingers. She lapped her bouillon from a 
Dresden cup ; slept at night on a pad stuffed 
with down under the bed of her master, the 
young Marquis; and was as certain of the 
divine right of some dogs to be petted and 
spoiled, and of the fitness of their turning up 
their noses at base-born curs, as her master 
was of the divine right of kings to rule, and 
of the old noblesse of France to feel that they 
were made of a finer clay than ordinary mor- 
tals. She was supersensitive and nervous, as 
well as fastidious : a discord in music would 
make her weep ; a bad odour would make her 
ill ; and the sight of a tramp in tatters would 
give her a fit. On the only occasion on 
which she had travelled with the family, 
Popotte had given them great annoyance by 
always insisting on the most luxurious sur- 
roundings. At one hotel it happened that 


An Elopement 3 

the St. Angels had not been able to secure 
the best rooms, as they were already occu- 
pied by a prince. Popotte passed the door 
of this apartment with great reluctance, and 
one day deserted her master’s rooms and 
coolly curled herself upon the satin cushions 
of the pet armchair of Monsieur le Prince. 
She was ignominiously expelled by that 
potentate, and the St. Angels judged it best 
to leave her at the chateau during their sub- 
sequent journeys. 

Popotte was an accomplished dog, and, like 
many another amateur, she had an exagger- 
ated idea of her own talents. She was lazy, 
but she was also greedily fond of candy and 
could be tempted to exertion by the rattle of 
bonbons in Ludovic’s silver bonbonnihe. In 
this way she had been taught to beg, to 
waltz slowly and gravely, to carry objects, 
and to perform other tricks at command. 
She had been so much praised and petted 
that she considered herself the most admi- 
rable creature in the world ; and it will be 
seen that her affection for Zulu must have 
been very strong indeed to have caused her 
to desert her luxurious home, forget all class 
distinctions, and adopt as her motto, — ‘‘ All 
for love, and the world well lost.” 


4 


Pierre and His Poodle 


Popotte’s meeting with her lover occurred 
on the occasion of her young master’s fete, 
or rather the fete of Saint Ludovic, for whom 
the young Marquis de St. Angel was named. 
In France the fete day of one’s patron saint 
is always celebrated instead of one’s own 
birthday, so that this was practically 
Ludovic’s birthday. He was nine years old, 
— a handsome, lovable boy, all gaiety and 
courtesy, and delighted with the prospect of a 
party for his young friends in the garden and 
park of the chateau. The garden had been 
laid out in the formal style of Louis XIV., 
with a balustraded terrace overlooking the 
river, and long, straight walks bordered with 
parterres a broderie^ or carpet-like designs of 
scrolls of box and foliage plants set in white 
sand and red brick dust, and ornamented at 
regular intervals with glistening white urns. 
It was stately and brilliant, but Ludovic liked 
better the forest park, with its old trees with 
their mysterious shadows, and the rabbits 
which darted across his path and scuttled 
away at his approach. A broad avenue led 
from the garden through the forest to a little 
open-air theatre, where Ludovic’s ancestors 
of a hundred years ago had acted the plays 
of Moliere for their own amusement. It con- 


An Elopement 5 

sisted of a small oval amphitheatre, walled in 
by a tall hedge, facing a terraced stage whose 
side scenes were natural trees and shrubs, 
with a rocky cliff as a “ back drop.’^ Weeds 
had grown in the dress-circle, the stone 
benches were covered with moss, and the 
artificial cascade of former days no longer 
tumbled down the cliff; but it was a favourite 
haunt of Ludovic’s, and he loved to declaim 
from the stage to an imaginary audience. 
It was here, too, that Pierre, who was 
Popotte’s valet, would train the poodle to 
perform the tricks for which she was so 
remarkable. 

Pierre was only two years older than the 
young Marquis. He was the huntsman’s son, 
but had been promoted from the kennels to 
stay at the- chateau and care for Popotte. He 
was fond of dogs, over whom he had won- 
derful control, and he seemed actually to 
understand their language. If Pierre threw 
on the ground the chocolates of which she 
was so fond, exclaiming, See, Popotte, these 
are for any poor little tramp dog that may 
happen to come along, c'est la charite vous 
compreneZy' Popotte would elevate her snub 
nose to a ridiculous angle and turn contemp- 
tuously away. But when Pierre called her 


6 Pierre and His Poodle 

back, exclaiming, “ This is a banquet, Popette, 
for my most distinguished friends, — for 
Madame la Princesse and Monsieur le Due, 
and they have invited you, Popotte ; it is a 
great honour,” then you should have seen 
Popotte caper joyously forward, and make 
haste to devour the entire banquet. 

Ludovic had decided that he would amuse 
his young friends at his fete by putting 
Popotte through her tricks in the open-air 
theatre, and had not thought of anything 
more elaborate in the way of entertainment 
until a few days before it took place, when 
it chanced that, in driving with his mother, he 
had noticed a curious encampment by the 
roadside. 

It consisted of a van, or small house, on 
wheels, decorated with a sign which an- 
nounced it to be the home of Nagy Pal 
(or Paul Nagy, for in the Hungarian language 
the surname follows the family one), trainer 
and showman of performing dogs. Several 
small terriers and a griffon were tethered to 
the wheels of the van and barked loudly as 
the carriage stopped. A dark man and a 
girl with a frowsy head slouched from the 
interior of the van and regarded the carriage 
and its occupants with a broad stare. Popotte, 





POPOTTE MEET^ ZIULU. 




8 


Pierre and His Poodle 


who was seated beside her young master, 
barked shrilly, nearly springing from the car- 
riage in her excitement, and a large poodle, 
whose curly hair was cut en lion, the only dog 
that was wandering about at large, trotted 
forward and wagged his pompon of a tail 
amicably. Though black by nature, he was 
grey with dust and thin from meagre fare; 
his matted hair half hid his fiery red eyes, and, 
with his stiff mustache and generally bohe- 
mian disreputable air, he bore an amusing 
resemblance to his master. He was plainly 
one of those “ tramp dogs ” for whom Po- 
potte had been taught that charity should be 
reserved, and not a fit companion for her 
ladyship, but he had no appreciation of the 
difference in their stations, and continued 
mutely to wag his tail, and he bounded joy- 
ously when, at Ludovic’s earnest solicitation, 
the coachman drew rein, and Ludovic asked 
when and where the troupe would give its 
next performance. The man replied that he 
was on his way to the fete of St.-Germain, 
and he gave Ludovic some handbills setting 
forth the attractions which he would offer on 
that occasion. As they drove away the black 
poodle barked hoarsely, and ran after the 
carriage until his master called him back 


I 


9 


An Elopement 

sternly, when he remained standing, watch- 
ing them out of sight with a disappointed 
air. He had evidently thought that Popotte 
was a new arrival, and had given her a hos- 
pitable welcome, plainly showing that he 
was ready to take her under his protection, 
despite her aristocratic airs. Popotte, too, 
with the coquettishness characteristic of her 
sex, though she had bristled with indigna- 
tion at his approach, now that she was 
being borne rapidly away from him whined 
and tugged at her leash, manifesting a 
perverse desire to dash back to her new 
acquaintance. 

Ludovic held her tightly and read the play- 
bill. It announced wonderful feats by the 
trained dogs, including the acting of a little 
play. 

Ludovic was enchanted, and begged to be 
allowed to attend the fete at St.-Germain, and 
the Marquise readily promised that he should 
do so. It occurred to her also that it would 
be a pleasant feature of the festival with which 
she intended to celebrate her son’s birthday 
to have the mountebank bring his dogs and 
give a performance for the children in the 
out-of-door theatre ; and Pierre was sent that 
evening to the gypsy’s camp to make all the 


lO 


Pierre and His Poodle 


arrangements. Pierre found the girl prepar- 
ing supper in a kettle which was hung over a 
little fire. The black poodle barked loudly 
at his approach, and the girl seemed as little 
inclined to welcome him. 

“ Be off with you ! ” she exclaimed, as she 
saw that Pierre was not afraid of the poodle. 
“ The dog is very savage ; he always bites 
strangers.” 

“ He will not bite me,” Pierre replied, pat- 
ting the poodle. “ I like dogs, and they like 
me.” 

“Well, I am not a dog, and I do not like 
you, so go all the same.” 

“ Will you bite me if I stay? ” Pierre asked 
mischievously. “ Your supper smells de- 
licious. If there is anything that I like it is 
fricasseed rabbit. You might be hospitable 
and give me some, especially as I am sure 
that it is one of our rabbits you have in that 
kettle. My father is the garde-chasse at the 
chtoau, and he found traces of a poacher in 
the park this morning.” 

The girl ran toward him with a ladle filled 
with the hot stew. “ I will give it to you,” 
she cried ; “ never fear but I will give it to 
you — in your face — impudent one.” 

“ There, there, you sweet-tempered angel,” 


An Elopement 1 1 

Pierre replied mockingly, capering round the 
fire and managing to keep just out of her 
reach. “Your fricassee will burn if you do 
not pay attention to it. And calm yourself, 
courteous one ; I did not come on account of 
the rabbit, but with a message of quite another 
nature for your father.” 

“ Then stand still and deliver your mes- 
sage,” said a gruff voice behind him; and 
Pierre, turning, found himself confronted by 
Nagy Pal, who held a board on which he 
had just stretched the rabbit skin, which he 
scorned to hide. Pierre thought it politic 
not to appear to notice this proof of the ori- 
gin of the supper, and forthwith entered into 
negotiation for the performance, to such good 
effect that the evening before the fete the 
mountebank’s cart drove into the park and 
encamped behind the little theatre. Pierre 
met them at the lodge-gate and led the way 
to the place assigned for the encampment. 
While the dog trainer was busy unharnessing 
his horse, Pierre brought from the bushes two 
rabbits, which he had previously placed there, 
and presented them to the girl with the com- 
pliments of the Marquise, who, he said, was 
fearful that Nagy Pal might injure himself in 
one of the man-traps which were hidden in 


12 Pierre and His Poodle 

the forest. Minka, for this was the girl’s 
name, thrust out her tongue at Pierre by way 
of thanks, and assured him that if he had 
been telling tales about poaching, his own 
neck was in more danger than her father’s 
legs. Pierre scampered away, grinning and 
gibing, Minka returning his grimaces with 
others still more extraordinary. 

“ She has no manners,” Pierre said to him- 
self; “ she is utterly detestable.” 

Nevertheless, after dinner he strolled near 
the spot, and hearing some wild sweet music, 
secreted himself in the shrubbery and lis- 
tened. Minka and her father were seated 
by their camp fire, playing on violins and 
singing Hungarian songs. Pierre could not 
understand a word, but the melody fascinated 
him. He did not show himself, for fear they 
would cease playing and singing, but he re- 
mained crouched motionless, listening acutely 
until the little concert ceased. 

Early the next morning Ludovic, Pierre, 
and Popotte visited the theatre and assisted 
at a rehearsal. Ludovic was most interested 
in the feats of a pretty grijfon named Rigo- 
lette, and a lithe, slender Danish terrier 
named Rigolo. Pierre, in spite of his fond- 
ness for dogs, found himself looking about 


An Elopement 13 

for the little spitfire Minka. As she did not 
appear on the stage, he slipped out of the 
theatre and found her giving an acrobatic 
performance quite by herself. She wore 
trunk hose, like a professional gymnast, and 
was practising on a trapeze which her father 
had swung from the limb of a high tree. 
Pierre watched her for some time in aston- 
ishment. She hung by one hand, by her 
heels, by her chin ; she recovered herself and 
leaped and turned and swung in the most 
blood-chilling and dangerous way. At length, 
at a particularly startling feat, he could con- 
tain himself no longer, but gave a cry of 
fright. Minka bounded to the ground, gave 
three back springs, and laughed in his face. 
“ That is nothing,” she said. “ You should see 
my teacher perform ; your heart would be in 
your mouth all the time.” 

“ Are you going to do that before the com- 
pany this afternoon? ” Pierre asked. 

“ Oh, no ! ” Minka replied. “ I am not 
expert enough to perform in public yet. I 
am studying to be an equilibriste^ and one of 
these days I shall make my d^biit in the 
Cirque d' Et^ ; but father says it is a great 
mistake to appear until one has thoroughly 
learned one’s profession. He is very ambi- 


l4 Pierre and His Poodle 

tiousfor me, and believes I have talent. You 
despised me; you thought I was only a 
tramp. One of these days, when you are 
still only a servant, you will see I shall have 
a great career — There, your master is call- 
ing you, stupid ! Stop staring at me and go 
away ! ” 

Ludovic had called Pierre to show off 
Popotte, and she now went through her little 
repertoire with great credit, eliciting many 
compliments from the dog trainer, who offered 
to take her for a few months and educate her. 
This Ludovic would not think of, though the 
man was evidently skilled in his profession, — 
his own dogs acting their parts with marvel- 
lous exactitude. It seemed to Ludovic that 
such implicit obedience could not haye been 
obtained without cruelty, and, when the mas- 
ter cracked his little snake-like whip, every 
member of the lithe troupe would cringe and 
shiver in abject fright. The exhibition in the 
afternoon was a great success. The weather 
was perfect, and the young Marquis, in gala 
attire, received the children at the chateau, 
and then conducted them through the beauti- 
ful garden, down the avenue arched by noble 
forest trees, to the little theatre. Here Popotte 
introduced the performance by executing a 


An Elopement 15 

ballet dance. A ruffle of tarlatan repre- 
sented the dancer’s brief skirts, and her collar 
and her top-knot were tied with exaggerated 
bows of light blue ribbon, while bracelets of 
the same decorated her fore paws. Popotte 
usually danced to an accompaniment by 
Pierre on a mouth organ ; but Nagy Pal had 
tried her at the rehearsal with his violin, 
and, the result having proved satisfactory, he 
arranged that she should be accompanied 
by his “ dog orchestra.” Four of the dogs 
sat on the terrace just below the stage, and 
made a most comical pretence of perform- 
ing upon different instruments with sheets 
of music upon stands before them. A fox 
terrier had a trombone which he gravely 
sucked, his paws beating a noiseless pit-pat 
on the holes, while Rigolo stood upright be- 
side a stringless ’cello, and Rigolette nimbly 
frisked about, executing marvellous feats of 
agility with her fore paws on the keyboard 
of a toy piano, which, however, gave forth 
no sound. Zulu, the great black poodle, 
with his paws covered with padded gloves, 
solemnly struck the drum at intervals. He 
was the only member of the orchestra 
whose performance was bona fide^ the other 


1 6 Pierre and His Poodle 

parts being rendered by Nagy Pal and his 
daughter, who played their violins behind 
the scenes. 

Popotte danced with great dignity ; she 
could not see the dog orchestra, or she might 
have been diverted from the execution of her 
part, but she never lost sight of Pierre’s lifted 
finger as he stood in the wings, and she 
pirouetted and curtseyed and glided with a 
sense of the grave importance of the occa- 
sion, only once resting her tired back by 
dropping upon her fore paws. When, at 
the close of her performance, Ludovic tossed 
her a bouquet, she caught it in her mouth 
and waddled from the stage in a tempest 
of applause. Zulu’s shaggy head alone 
had appeared above the level of the stage 
floor, and he had watched her with such 
interest that he had failed to come in at 
the proper intervals with his “ boom-er-um- 
a-boom,” and when she left the stage in 
triumph he sprang after her, regardless of 
his padded feet, gambolling about her with 
every expression of doggish admiration and 
congratulation. 

After this the dogs of the troupe gave an 
exhibition of their accomplishments. Rigo- 


An Elopement 17 

lette walked up a flight of tiny steps on her 
hind legs, and then came down again on her 
fore feet, at the same time balancing a lighted 
lamp on her little head. She then rode on a 
bicycle across a horizontal bar, and the aston- 



ishment and applause were immense when 
Nagy Pal attached a swing to the bicycle, 
into which Rigolo sprang and was conveyed 
across the stage. 

Then the dogs ate with due decorum at a 
banquet, where they were served by Zulu in 


1 8 Pierre and His Poodle 

a cook’s cap and apron. This last was too 
much for Popotte, who had been watching 
the performance with acute professional jeal- 
ousy, and who now, scenting sugar, leaped 
from Ludovic’s arms, bounded upon the stage, 
and helped herself to the dainties, breaking 
up the banquet; whereupon Zulu, who had 
often acted as monitor and assistant for his 
master, gravely took one of Popotte’s fringed 
ears in his mouth and led her from the 
stage. 

The canine part of the programme ended 
with the dogs acting a pantomime, the “ Trag- 
edy of Bluebeard.” Zulu, in a crimson fez, 
was Bluebeard, while Rigolette took the part 
of Fatima. In the first scene, Zulu, ready 
to set out upon his journey, with a small 
travelling-bag hanging about his neck, trotted 
forward with a huge wooden key in his 
mouth, which he deposited at the feet of 
Rigolette, at the same time barking gruffly. 
In the second scene some puppets draped 
in cotton shrouds spotted with red flannel 
blood stains, were hung against the wall 
to represent the dead wives, while Rigolette, 
having made a round of inspection, fainted 
in due form. Then Zulu rushed wildly 


An Elopement 19 

in and shook the little dog roughly, until 
Rigolo and the fox terrier, who took the 
part of the two brothers, arrived upon the 
scene, Rigolo carrying a small gun, which 
he pointed at Zulu, who, at a pistol-shot 
fired behind the scene by the dog-trainer, 
immediately dropped in feigned death, and 
Rigolette, springing to her feet, capered for 
joy. Then Rigolo and the fox terrier rushed 
from the stage, and returned harnessed as 
horses to a small hearse. Nagy Pal lifted 
Zulu by one hind leg to show that he was 
really dead, and then threw him into the 
hearse and he was carried from the sta'ge, 
Rigolette waddling after the hearse with her 
fore paws covering her face, which was bowed 
in hypocritical grief. 

Immense applause following this little play, 
Nagy Pal and his daughter came forward, 
and, having bowed their acknowledgments, 
played several Hungarian gypsy tunes upon 
their violins, and sang some of their weird 
songs. The Marquise was much pleased by 
Minka’s voice, which had something touch- 
ingly pathetic in its quality. The Marquise 
applauded the young singer again and again, 
and Minka sang as an encore an old French 


20 


Pierre and His Poodle 


song, “ Si j’etais petit diseau.” “ If I were a 
little bird,” ran the song, “ I would fly to the 
prison towers where languish the poor cap- 
tives, and hiding my wings lest, seeing them, 
their homesick hearts might be filled with 
longing, I would sing and sing, till one 
would smile, and another dream upon his 
pallet of the green fields near his birth- 
place.” 

Ludovic’s mother beckoned Minka to her. 
“ You have a remarkable voice, my child,” 
she said, and I am strangely drawn to 
you. Would you like to come and live 
with me and study music, if your father is 
willing? ” 

But Minka scowled. My father would 
not consent, and I would not come if he did. 
I do not want to study music ; I am going to 
be a famous gymnast some day, and perform 
in a circus.” 

The Marquise pressed a coin into the 
child’s hand. “ Be a good girl,” she said, 
“ whatever happens ; and if you ever change 
your mind, let me know.” Then, rising, the 
lady led her son’s friends to the chteau, where 
a supper had been provided for them in the 
great dining-room. The Marquise ordered 


An Elopement 21 

one of the servants to fill a basket with ices, 
cake, and fruit, and told Pierre to take it to 
Minka. The girl received the gift ungra- 
ciously: “Your Marquise is a very ignorant 
person,” she said to Pierre. “ She has no 
appreciation of an artistic career. She to 
think that I would give up my vocation, sac- 
rifice my genius, to come here and live with 
her ! Bah ! her supercilious airs make me 
sick. She is as stupid as your rag of a dog. 
What presumption to attempt to exhibit 
such an imbecile by the side of my father’s 
educated animals ! It is a mere mass of white 
cotton, a mop, a swab of wool, good only to 
clean the windows, a thing without intelli- 
gence, UM rien du touty who is not worth two 
cents.” 

“ Stop,” said Pierre, authoritatively. “ You 
may mock at me all you choose, but you 
shall not insult my mistress or Popotte, 
who are both of the noblest blood that 
exists.” 

“ All sham,” the girl insisted, “ as false as 
those red stones in that cheap. iron setting, 
that trickle like blood drops on her white 
neck and bosom.” 

“The St. Angel rubies false? I tell you. 


22 


Pierre and His Poodle 


ignorant one, that necklace was given to my 
mistress’s grandmother by Marie Antoinette, 
and they were given to her by her mother, 
Maria Theresa of Austria; they are famed 
all over France.” 

“What?” said Nagy Pal, who had taken 
no part in the conversation. “ That must 
have been the necklace which the Hungarian 
gypsies gave the Empress of Austria when 
the Hungarians made her their king ! ” 

“How could a woman be a king?” Pierre 
asked. 

“As for that, I do not know; but I know 
of the necklace, for my mother has told me 
of it. The stones were a part of the crown 
jewels of our own king when the gypsies were 
a people with a country, long before there 
was any France. An old people are the 
Rommany, older than the Jews. And their 
country was a far country, — farther than the 
land of the Moors, and farther than Egypt, 
even the land of the Chaldees.” 

“ Why did the gypsies give their jewels to 
this woman king?” Minka asked. 

“ A curse had been upon us for many 
years,” Nagy Pal replied. “ When we were 
driven out from our country the crown was 


An Elopement 23 

broken up and divided among many clans; 
but they brought the jewels together and 
gave them to Maria Theresa, for there was a 
prophecy that when a woman was made king 
the gypsies would find a home. It was a lie, 
for we wander still. It is well that the rubies 
look like drops of blood, for the gypsies 
gave them to Maria Theresa as a sign that 
they would willingly shed their blood in her 
behalf. They are set in iron because the 
gypsies have no gold, nor are any of them 
goldsmiths; but they are the finest black- 
smiths in the world.” 

“ Then, if gypsies made that necklace,” 
said Minka, “ it should belong to gypsies, 
and not to a French woman.” 

Nagy Pal replied, but in the language 
which Pierre did not understand, and he 
walked away to the main avenue, where 
carriages were beginning to arrive with par- 
ents, nurses, and bo 7 ines to fetch the children 
home. 

Ludovic, wearied but happy with his day’s 
enjoyment, waved him a glad good-night, 
and climbed the great stone staircase to 
his bedroom. Popotte limped along at his 
side; she was weary, too, and glad to curl 


24 Pierre and His Poodle 

herself up on the pad under the head of 
her master’s bed. Nevertheless when, an 
hour later, she heard a confused barking in 
front of the chateau, she sprang up, pushed 
open the long French windows, and, thrust- 
ing her nose through the iron work of the 
balcony railing, barked shrilly in reply. It 
was the mountebank’s van leaving the cha- 
teau grounds, and when Zulu heard Popotte’s 
voice he leaped from the waggon and pre- 
sented himself like another Romeo under his 
Juliet’s balcony. 

“ Down, Popotte ! ” said Ludovic, sleepily. 
“Lie down and stop barking! ” And Popotte 
slunk obediently back to her mat and all was 
still. But she had seen the shadowy form of 
Zulu beneath the balcony; she heard him 
barking a disconsolate farewell on the terrace, 
and she suddenly realised that he was going 
away, and that he was altogether the most 
admirable dog that she had ever met. When 
Zulu barked, “ Good-bye, dear Popotte ; I go, 
but I will never forget you ; I love you, 
Popotte,” — the little canine Juliet could not 
withstand her lover’s howls, but pattered 
softly down the long staircase and into the 
deserted salon. Here she examined all the 


25 


An Elopement 

windows until she found one ajar, when, on 
a briefer acquaintance than her human pro- 
totype, she inconsiderately eloped with her 
Romeo. 



IN SEARCH OF POPOTt^ 


Chapter 2 

. f^\ 


-■'y vr'^ 


/• 


Ludovic was not at first alarmed when, on 
awakening, he found that Popotte was not 
waiting with impatience for him to open his 
eyes and give the signal for a game of romps. 
He supposed that she had gone down to the 
kitchen for her breakfast. But when the 
morning passed without the appearance of 
the little dog, and none of the servants could 
give any news of her, and even Pierre and 
the gamekeeper could not find her on the 
grounds, suspicion began to attach itself to 
the dog-trainer. Indeed, so positive was the 
Marquise that Popotte had been stolen that 
she sent the gamekeeper to inform the local 
authorities and to have the man arrested. 


Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 27 

What was her surprise when, a little later, 
Nagy Pal himself appeared, asserting that 
he had lost a dog; that Zulu, the best actor 
in his troupe, was missing, and must have re- 
mained on the grounds of the chateau. So 
certain was the man of his own right that he 
was even disagreeable, implying that some 
one had concealed his dog wilfully, and de- 
manding that every outbuilding should be 
searched. During the altercation the game- 
keeper returned with a gendarme, who took 
the man in custody. He led the way fear- 
lessly to his van, which was found encamped 
on the road to St.-Germain. He said that 
he had driven all night in order to gain time 
for the fete, which opened that afternoon, but 
had halted for breakfast and to rest his horse, 
and had not until then discovered the absence 
of Zulu. The officer of the law made a thor- 
ough search of the van, and neither Popotte 
nor Zulu were to be found. It was possible, 
of course, that Nagy Pal had left them with 
some accomplice on the way; but his volun- 
tary return to the chateau, instead of taking 
the chance of not being discovered, was not 
explainable on the supposition that he was 
guilty. Accordingly, after much deliberation, 
the mountebank was liberated. But, infuri- 


2 8 Pierre and His Poodle 

ated by his unjust persecution, as well as by 
the loss of his valuable dog, he insisted on 
his part that the chateau and its grounds 
should be searched for Zulu. This the Mar- 
quise ordered should be done, and the gen- 
darme, accompanied by the dog-trainer and 
by the game-keeper and Pierre, made a thor- 
ough examination of the place without result, 
and parted with mutual disgust and recrimi- 
nation. Pierre could not be persuaded that 
Nagy Pal had not stolen Popotte, and was of 
the opinion that he had returned with this 
cry of injured innocence to put them all 
off the track. He argued the matter with 
Ludovic and with his father, who admitted 
that this might be the case. Ludovic was 
nearly wild with grief. He would accept 
neither hope nor consolation, and even re- 
fused to eat. When his mother adopted the 
opinion of the gendarme, that the dog- 
trainer had not stolen Popotte, Ludovic was 
convinced that his pet was dead. “ I heard 
her barking in the night,” he said. “ I 
believe that she discovered a thief prowling 
about the house, and that the man killed her 
to keep her from rousing us all, and has con- 
cealed her body.” 

When asked to explain Zulu’s disappearance 


Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 29 

on this hypothesis, he declined to interest 
himself in it. 

“ I don’t care what has become of all the 
other dogs in the world. My Popotte is dead, 
I am certain of it ; and the faithful little crea- 
ture died in defending us all.” 

The tears came to honest Pierre’s eyes as 
he witnessed his little master’s grief. “ Po- 
potte is not dead,” he said ; “ I am sure of it. 
If she were, we should have found her body. 
I still believe that that rogue of a dog-trainer 
and his insufferable daughter have stolen her 
on account of her talents, and later, in some 
distant place, they will exhibit her with their 
dogs. They are bad people. They stole a 
rabbit from the park, and, oh. Monsieur Ludo- 
vic, look in your mother’s jewel casket, and 
see if her ruby necklace is safe, for I believe 
they meant to steal that.” Ludovic unlocked 
a cabinet and took out the morocco case in 
which the necklace was kept. It was there, 
and while the boys were looking at it the 
Marquise passed through the room and 
snatched it from Pierre’s hands so suddenly 
that one of the pendants caught on a button 
of his jacket and was broken off. He handed 
it back to her, and Pierre explained why they 
were looking at it; but the Marquise was evi- 


30 Pierre and His Poodle 

dently much displeased. Ludovic followed 
Pierre to the edge of the park, apologising 
for his mother’s brusqiierie, and Pierre, in his 
turn, endeavoured to console Ludovic for the 
loss of Popotte. “ Where she is now,” he 
said, “I do not know; but I will find her. 
Monsieur le Marquis, of that be assured. Do 
not disquiet yourself; I am going away, and 
though I have to tramp-all over France, I will 
find Popotte.” 

The boys were alone, and Ludovic threw 
his arms around Pierre’s neck. “ Oh, good, 
noble Pierre ! ” he exclaimed, “ what will I 
not do for you if you succeed ! Here, take 
my purse; there are two gold-pieces in it 
which my godmother gave me yesterday.” 

Pierre shook his head and pushed them 
from him. “ I have two stout legs to travel 
with,” he said, “ and I can do odd jobs for my 
food. I will not take your money.” 

“ Not for yourself, Pierre,” Ludovic pleaded, 
“but for Popotte. You might have a chance 
to buy her back; or, having found her, could 
come back more quickly by train,” and he 
pressed the purse persistently into Pierre’s 
hand. “ Not for myself, but for Popotte,” the 
other repeated reluctantly, and hurried away 
to his home at the kennels. Here he ex- 


Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 3 1 

plained his theory once more to his father, 
who listened taciturnly. “ I am going to the 
fete of St.-Germain,” said Pierre, “ and I shall 
hang around until I see Popotte exhibited.” 

“ They will never dare show her so near to 
us as that,” said Pierre’s mother. 

“ N'importe, I can follow the waggon to the 
next fete.” 

“You will have your trouble for your 
pains,” said Pierre’s father. “ You will not 
find her.” 

“ Pierre is no imbecile,” his mother replied, 
bridling ; “ and if he does find the dog the 
Marquise will reward him well. Go, my son, 
and the saints preserve you ! Here is a medal 
with the head of the blessed Saint Roch. It 
will preserve you from the bites of savage dogs 
and from robbers. But take care of yourself 
all the same. Do not let the dog-trainer see 
you at first, or he may recognise you and sus- 
pect your errand.” The good woman bus- 
tled about, wrapping some cheese in a bit of 
paper, and insisted on his carrying with him 
a loaf of bread long enough to have served as 
a pilgrim’s staff. 

The gamekeeper said not a word against 
the enterprise. He was considering ponder- 
ously that there were other sons at home to 


32 Pierre and His Poodle 

help him, whose mouths must be filled, and 
that, as Pierre would now lose his salary as 
care-taker of Popotte, it was just as well that 
he should launch out for himself. When his 
son took his hand to bid him good-bye he 
rose heavily, knocked the ashes from his 
pipe, and said, not unkindly, “You will not 
find the dog, but you may find something bet- 
ter. If you do, don’t trouble yourself to come 
back. It is a dog’s life, among dogs, that 
your father leads, and there is nothing better 
for you here.” 

But Pierre’s mother walked with him as far 
as the gatekeeper’s lodge, where she threw 
her arms around him and sobbed as though 
she foresaw that she was losing him for ever. 
“ If you do not find Popotte, come back all 
the same,” she said. “The young Marquis 
will soon be consoled for his pet, but I can- 
not live without my boy.” 

And Pierre answered kindly and confi- 
dently, “ Never fear, mother ; I shall come 
back, and I shall find Popotte.” 

One of the gatekeeper’s children told Pierre 
that Nagy Pal had passed about an hour 
before, driving in the direction of Paris. This 
surprised Pierre greatly, as he had supposed 
that the dog-trainer would go to St.-Germain; 


Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 33 

but the child was positive, and Pierre followed 
on foot. He walked so rapidly that, thanks 
to a pause which Nagy Pal made at a way- 
side inn, he caught sight of the van just as it 
was halted at the octroi, or custom-house, at 
the entrance of the city. But the official had 
completed his examination, and the van jolted 
inside the fortifications, and Pierre speedily lost 
sight of it among the numerous vehicles pass- 
ing in different directions. The boy was utterly 
tired out and quite discouraged, but an idea 
suddenly occurred to him. The customs 
officer had looked through the roulette : he 
would know whether Popotte was inside ; and 
Pierre returned to the octroi and told his 
story. The officer heard him kindly, but 
assured him that there was no white poodle, 
either among the dogs, which occupied a sort 
of cage in the rear part of the van, or in the 
front part, which served as living room for 
Nagy Pal and his daughter. He told Pierre 
that the dogrtrainer had said that he was on 
his way to the Marche aux Chiens (dog- 
market) to purchase a dog to take the part 
of one he had lost, and that he was then 
going to St.-Germain, where his partner, the 
proprietor of a puppet theatre, was awaiting 
him. 


3 


34 


Pierre and His Poodle 


Pierre sat quietly thinking the matter over. 
The van had now been twice searched by 
officers of the law, and he felt convinced that 
if Popotte had been within she would have 
been discovered. It therefore seemed use- 
less for him to follow the dog-trainer farther. 
Still Pierre was not certain that Nagy Pal 
had not stolen Popotte and given her to some 
confederate. How about this partner at St.- 
Germain? The train filled with people bound 
for the fete passed this very point, and Pierre, 
still weary, but no longer discouraged, clam- 
bered on board. 

The Fete des Loges is one of the most fre- 
quented of the fetes held in the environs of 
Paris. It has been held for generations past 
in the grand old forest of St.-Gerniain, and 
opens on the 23d of August, closing on mid- 
night of September first. Pierre found the 
various booths of this strange city of mounte- 
banks set up in the heart of the forest, through 
which a magnificent avenue leads from the 
front of the old chateau. The glades and 
dells, once the haunt of the stag and boar, 
were alive with thousands of people, and the 
long avenue was thronged with every imagina- 
ble vehicle. Great barges transported hordes 
of Cook’s tourists. Elegant carriages brought 


Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 35 

such of the fashionable world as had not 
deserted Paris for the seashore ; tapissikres 
with gaily striped curtains had been hired by 
family parties of the bourgeoisie^ parties of 
jolly students tooting horns and wearing enor-* 
mous straw hats marched in company, and 
cyclists, both the male and the female variety, 
hardly distinguishable from the similarity of 
their costumes, darted like gleaming minnows 
between shoals of larger fish. Ces beaux mili- 
taires enlivened the road with their brilliant 
uniforms, and the omnivorous Parisian fiacre 
and omnibus poured in a heterogeneous mass 
of humanity. More amusing still to watch 
the queer vehicles which brought the peas- 
ants from a distance, harvest-waggons loaded 
with merry troops of young men and maidens 
and white-capped children. 

The scene, especially at night, when rows 
of coloured lanterns were stretched between 
the mossy trunks of the old trees, was fairy-like. 
Banks of clay had been thrown up, making a 
protection from the wind, and against these 
great fires crackled and spits turned, roasting 
a dozen fowls at once for the open-air restau- 
rants, which drove a thriving business. Be- 
fore one of these a sign announcing '' lapin 
roti” (roast rabbit) was displayed in pathetic 


36 Pierre and His Poodle 

neighbourhood to a pen of live bunnies frisk- 
ing in blissful unconsciousness of their ap- 
proaching fate. Vistas of divergent avenues 
opened on every hand, some lighted up in 
kaleidoscopic fashion by the flash of a car 
dashing in headlong haste down a Montague 
Rnsse (roller coaster), or flitted across by 
small Ferris wheels and other swings toss- 
ing their occupants up to the tree-tops. 
There were gilded merry-go-rounds at fre- 
quent intervals whirling children about in 
complicated gyrations, wheels within wheels 
waltzing dizzyingly on rotary platforms, — all 
spinning in frantic haste to the blatant sound 
of calliope organs. There were rings running 
on wires, to which people clung and were car- 
ried as by flying machines through the air. 
There were acrobats tumbling on strips of 
carpet by the roadside, and strong men toss- 
ing heavy iron weights into the air and catch- 
ing them as though they were the veriest 
playthings. There were dancers, both ama- 
teur and professional, and itinerant musicians 
singing and selling songs. Shooting galleries, 
with whole regiments of grotesque figures 
to be fired at, added to the din, and tempted 
crack shots with prizes of gaudily-painted 
vases. There were cake shops where white- 


Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 37 

aproned cooks stood over their braziers, which 
diffused most appetising and mouth-watering 
odours as they turned their gaitfres (waffles) 
and crepes (griddle cakes). At certain stands 
pahi d'ipice (gingerbread) was sold in gilded 
rolls or cut into grotesque pigs on which the 
cook wrote your name in pink or green icing. 
One woman carried a sheaf of sticks to which 
were attached balloons in the shape of cows, 
truly Assyrian in their shape, but coloured as 
no Assyrian artist in the wildest flights of his 
untutored and untrammelled fancy could have 
imagined. 

There was a hideously fat and misshapen 
man in pink tights, whose bare arms were 
tattooed in blue and who resembled some 
disgusting Chinese idol, who led a little don- 
key slowly about in a circle, announcing in a 
hoarse voice that if the audience would throw 
him a sufficient number of pennies they 
should laugh as they had never laughed in 
all their lives. His wife, an old woman, and 
also dressed as an acrobat, beat a small drum 
to attract the crowd. Pierre looked on for 
a long time in the hope of seeing some 
performance, but the crowd dispersed and an- 
other formed and still the fake performer did 
nothing but shout, “ Madame, the ass and I 




Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 39 

are going soon to amuse you. The ass 
knows the most. He knows arithmetic and 
can add and subtract; can tell the past and 
the future. Only ten more sous, generous 
patrons, and the performance will begin.* 
Thanks, only eight more ! Drum, Madame, 
drum ! ” and then the whole rigmarole would 
begin again. People took the imposition 
good-naturedly and moved on. Every one 
seemed out for a holiday, and determined 
to be gay, whatever happened or failed to 
happen. 

All day long Pierre wandered about amidst 
the joyous hubbub without finding any trace 
of Popotte or of the dog-trainer. At last, 
just as sunset was giving a background of 
beaten gold to the trees, he recognised Nagy 
Pal’s van as it lumbered slowly down the 
avenue and took its place behind a canvas 
tent, which served as auditorium and bore 
the sign, Amiisantes!' A clown, 

with chalked face spotted with vermilion, was 
beating a huge drum to attract patronage, 
and announcing a wonderful performance of 
marionnettes. The Miracle Play of Saint An- 
toine and his Blessed Pig. Pierre longed to 
go inside, especially as he saw that the dog- 
trainer had done so ; but he dreaded to dimin- 


40 


Pierre and His Poodle 


ishtoo rapidly his little store of money, having 
already broken one of the coins at the rail- 
road station. But a picture of performing 
dogs on the outside of the tent decided him, 
and he paid a sou, hoping that Popotte would 
make her first appearance on a professional 
stage. 

He was doomed to disappointment. The 
puppets were very cleverly manipulated. 
They gave a debased rendering of one of the 
old miracle plays of the Middle Ages,^ — 
the Temptation of Saint Anthony. The saint 
was shown in his hermitage with his pet 
companion, an intelligent pig. Lucifer ap- 
peared to him in different disguises and in- 
effectually endeavoured to induce him to leave 
his retreat. At intervals a chorus of demons 
danced weirdly among fireworks, singing their 
intention to burn the hermitage and roast the 
good saint and his pig. 

But Saint Anthony remained firm, and was 
finally carried to heaven with his pig by a 
band of angels, while the demons sunk below 
the stage in a blaze of fireworks. 

At the close of the performance Nagy Pal 
appeared and announced that he would give 
no regular exhibition for several days, but 

1 This play is described in “ Witch Winnie in Paris.” 


Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 41 

would simply amuse them gratis by a few 
little exercises by his celebrated dogs Rigo- 
lette and Rigolo, as he was busy accomplish- 
ing the dressage (training) of an extremely 
clever dog who would make its debut in a 
tragedy on the last day of the fete. It would 
be well for all interested to secure their tickets 
in advance, as double price would be charged 
for them on the day of the representation, 
and it might then even be impossible to 
obtain them at any price. Pierre wondered 
whether this new actor was the dog which 
Nagy Pal had purchased at the Marche to 
supply Zulu’s place, or whether he referred 
to Popotte. 

It was possible, he argued, that the trainer 
intended to show her on the last day of the 
fete in order to lessen the chances of detec- 
tion, and to abscond immediately after her 
appearance. There was a bare chance of 
this, which made it seem advisable to Pierre 
for him to remain on the ground and to keep 
his eyes very wide open. 

The first thing for him to do was to find 
some occupation by which he could support 
himself while acting his part as a detective. 
He wandered up and down the street on the 


42 Pierre and His Poodle 

lookout for a sign equivalent to “ Boy- 
wanted/’ but nothing of the kind met his eye. 
There was every opportunity to spend 
money, but none of earning it. He stood 
fascinated before the booth of the serpent- 
charmer as she came for a moment on the 
little outside platform and gave a short free 
performance to tempt the crowd to follow 
her into the tent. She was dressed in span- 
gled gauze, with bangles on her bare arms, 
among which coiled, bracelet-like, two small 
snakes, while around her neck and over her 
bosom fell the heavy body of a huge boa- 
constrictor. She fondled this loathsome 
creature, kissing it, pressing its great head 
against her cheeks, and lifting it with both 
arms, now swaying it scarf-like while she 
danced gracefully, now coiling it like a sash 
about her lithe figure. Finally, to show that 
it was not stupefied from over eating, she 
placed it on the floor and set a live rabbit in 
front of it. The little animal shrank back 
trembling in an extremity of terror, but the 
snake lifted its head and so fascinated the 
poor creature that it made no attempt to fly 
but allowed itself to be strangled and swal- 
lowed. 


Pierre Goes in Search of Popotte 43 

“ Coco has had his supper,” the serpent- 
charmer remarked cheerfully; “ he will now 
take a good nap, but on the last evening of 
the fete he will be as hungry as ever, and he 
will swallow for you a dog, incredible as it 
may seem, — a poodle so large that you 
would fancy that even his head could not 
enter Coco’s jaws. Those who wish to as- 
sist at this astonishing repast, will do well to 
secure their places in advance. It will be 
a most remarkable feat. And now, ladies 
and gentlemen, if you would like to see 
me in my world-renowned tableau of the 
Medusa’s Head, copied from the celebrated 
picture of Leonardo da Vinci, in which 
tableau I have twenty poisonous reptiles 
coiled in my hair, you will be so good as 
to deposit the trifling sum of three cents with 
the doorkeeper, and I shall have the pleas- 
ure of filling your souls with horror and 
admiration.” 

Pierre already felt the thrill of these con- 
tending emotions, but he did not respond to 
the invitation, and he felt that, even if he had 
not already determined on attending the 
debut of the new dog on the last evening of 
the fete, nothing could have induced him to 


44 Pierre and His Poodle 

see that disgusting reptile crush the life out 
of another innocent victim. But while making 
this resolve he little realised that the dog 
devoted to this terrible death was his own 
beloved Popotte. 





Chapter 3 

THE ADVENTURES OF 
POPOTTE 

AND 

ZULU 


T.0.3 


When Popotte eloped with Zulu, although 
she was undoubtedly solicited by her lover to 
run away, the fault, as usually in elopements, 
was not entirely on one side. Popotte was 
utterly weary of her luxurious life of bore- 
dom, and longed for adventure. She was 
tired of having her silky hair combed every 
morning, and of her daily bath. Here was 
a dog whose matted hair proclaimed that he 
was seldom submitted to such grievances. 
True, her leash was a silken one, but it held 
her securely, while Zulu walked at large. 
Though in the company of actors he evi- 


46 


Pierre and His Poodle 


dently enjoyed more freedom than the rest. 
He was a travelled dog, and Popotte admired 
him as much for his broader experience as 
for his sturdy air of independence. He was 
a dog of the world, while she had been mewed 
behind nunnery walls. No matter if the soci- 
ety with which he had mingled had not always 
been of the choicest, apparently his life of 
the road and the fairs was more entertaining 
than hers of the salon. Something of this he 
had told her when he had complimented her 
on her dancing, when they chatted together 
in dog language behind the thicket scenes of 
the out-of-door theatre. 

“ You should adopt a professional life,” 
said Zulu; “you are too talented for a mere 
amateur.” 

“ So I have been told,” Popotte replied con- 
descendingly ; “but what opportunity have 
I for the display of my abilities? My only 
chance of exhibiting my genius is to faire 
le beati (stand up, and beg) for some old 
dowager after dinner, who rewards me with 
lumps of sugar dipped in anisette, which I 
detest. You, on the contrary, are accus- 
tomed to acting before large and admiring 
audiences, even larger and more enthusiastic 
than this.” 


Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 47 

“ My life is one continual fete,” Zulu ad- 
mitted, “ but I often sigh for refined com- 
panionship. The moment that you dawned 
upon our encampment in the dingle, I said 
when I saw the prancing horses, the satin- 
lined carriage with its armorial bearings on 
the panel, the servants in livery, your elegant 
and attentive master and mistress, — ‘ Here is 
a dog who has every luxury in life, and for 
whom nothing is too good.’ ” 

“You little realised,” interrupted Popotte, 
“ how sick I am of all that luxury, how I 
envied you the wild freedom of the dingle. 
Do you ever chase rabbits?” 

“ Do I ! ” replied Zulu. “ Why, I am fed so 
poorly that I should die but for my hunting. 
I have already killed three in this very park ; 
but I first bring them to my master, who 
gives me my share. You have a very disa- 
greeable gamekeeper, who caught me and 
beat me cruelly, whereby I understood that 
you do not extend the courtesies of la chassc 
to your guests.” 

Popotte sighed. “ These people have no 
manners ; and figure to yourself that it is that 
man’s son who is my body-servant ! ” 

“Does he beat you? ” asked Zulu, sympa- 
thetically. 


48 Pierre and His Poodle 

“No; on the contrary, he is fond of me, 
and I am so tired of having people adore me, 
— are not you?” 

“ It must be disagreeable,” Zulu replied, 
“ since you do not like it ; as for myself, I 
have never been submitted to that kind of 
annoyance.” 

They talked a little further, Popotte becom- 
ing still more interested in her new friend, 
and in his fascinating Bohemian life. That 
night, as we have said, as she lay under her 
master’s bed she heard his deep bark of good- 
bye and rushed to the balcony. “Farewell, 
dear Popotte,” Zulu had exclaimed. “ I shall 
never forget you. You have given me my 
only glimpse of a life higher, — a nature more 
exalted than my own. Farewell, , beautiful 
one, — farewell for ever — ” 

“ No, not farewell,” Popotte had barked in 
reply. “ Wait for me; I am coming to you,” 
and she had scampered down the staircase as 
fast as her four little pink feet could carry her. 
“ Take me with you, dear Zulu,” she had 
sobbed. “ I cannot endure this life any 
longer. I shall die if you leave me.” 

And Zulu had licked away her tears and 
had assured her of his eternal devotion, and 
together they had slunk under the great gate, 


Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 49 

and no one had seen the lovers as they 
pattered away in the moonlight together. 

It was Zulu’s intention to rejoin his mas- 
ter’s van, and to introduce Popotte to the 
other members of the troupe ; but the dog- 
trainer had driven so rapidly, and they had 
lost so much time, that he was far in advance. 
They trotted along, following the scent with- 
out difficulty, and would have caught up 
after he had encamped if Popotte, already 
tired from her theatrical efforts, had not given 
out and lain down from pure fatigue. Zulu 
made several excursions in the neighbourhood 
and returned, reporting a brook near by, and 
to this succeeded in inducing Popotte to drag 
herself; but she was too much exhausted to 
go farther that night. She was cold as well 
as tired, and the hard, damp ground was not 
a pleasant substitute for her comfortable mat. 
Already she lamented her imprudence and 
wished herself back at the chteau. Like 
many another victim of her own folly, she 
querulously upbraided her lover, and blamed 
him for inducing her to run away. Zulu was 
too large-souled to remind her that he had 
not begged her to elope with him, but had 
merely yielded to her importunity to be 
taken. He did his best to cheer and comfort 


4 



SIGNOQ STQOMBOLI and hi5 VAN 



Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 51 

his forlorn little bride, and with the first ray 
of morning light foraged the thicket so suc- 
cessfully that he brought her a fat field-mouse 
for breakfast. But my lady turned up her 
nose at this barbarous, uncooked fare, and 
poor Zulu was at his wits’ end. He tried to in- 
duce her to resume the journey ; but Popotte 
was stiff, and discovering that she had a thorn 
in her foot set up a dismal little howl. “ I wish 
I had n’t come, boo hoo, boo hoo.” 

Zulu curvetted wildly back to the road, and 
looked up and down for succour. In the 
distance a van such as his master used was 
lumbering on toward St.-Germain, a man 
walking slowly beside it. Zulu dashed wildly 
after it, at first thinking that it might be the 
dog-trainer’s establishment. But as no famil- 
iar doggish odours were wafted back to his 
quick scent, he perceived that this was the 
outfit of some other mountebank making its 
way to the fete. He paused for a moment; 
then, with a feeling that there must be a sort 
of free masonry among people of the same 
profession, trotted up to the man, sniffing his 
hands and wagging his tail as confidently as 
though he were giving grip and countersign. 
But the man was a surly creature, not given to 
making friends either with the brute creation or 


52 


Pierre and His Poodle 


with his own kind, and he roughly ordered 
the dog away. Zulu retired with a crest- 
fallen air. In that brief interview he had 
scented sandwiches in the man’s coat-tail 
pocket, and he was seized with a great long- 
ing to possess them. Perhaps they might 
tempt the fastidious appetite of his beloved 
Popotte. He followed the man stealthily, 
creeping by degrees nearer and nearer. The 
end of a handkerchief hung out in a tempting 
way and Zulu seized it with his teeth, and 
with a sudden twitch the coveted sandwich 
rolled at his feet. Snatching it hastily, he 
made off an grand galop; but the man had 
felt the tug at his coat-skirts, and turn- 
ing recognised the theft and ran after the 
robber. 

Zulu made straight for Popotte and laid the 
sandwich before her, and when the man came 
crashing through the underbrush, Popotte 
was licking her chops, having finished the 
cold chicken which had formed the lining of 
the sandwich, and Zulu, instead of fleeing or 
cowering like a conscience-convicted thief, 
faced the man boldly as he lifted his stick to 
strike the little goimnande. The man, over- 
come by a new idea, let his stick fall harm- 
lessly. It was not admiration for Zulu’s 


Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 53 

unselfish devotion and bravery. He pos- 
sessed none of these qualities himself, and 
therefore could not appreciate them in others ; 
but he was struck by the dog’s cleverness in 
performing a theft. “ You are a mighty sharp 
pickpocket,” he said aloud, “ and with a 
little training I could teach you to do it more 
gently, so that you would not be detected. 
You are a genius worth teaching, and you 
may come along with me.” He accordingly 
patted Zulu and called him coaxingly, but 
the dog was not to be tempted from the side 
of Popotte. “ I see,” said the man, “ in order 
to secure you I must burden myself, for the 
present, with this useless piece of dog-flesh. 
Ah, well ; I can give it to Mademoiselle Tour- 
billon, the serpent-charmer; it will make a 
good dinner for her great boa-constrictor.” 

With this benevolent intention he lifted 
Popotte and carried her toward his van, 
Zulu capering at his side in high glee. A 
waggon laden with camp-equipage had halted 
a little farther on, and its driver, an under- 
sized East Indian, was peering curiously 
around to see what had detained his master. 
The sides of both the waggon and the van were 
decorated with startling representations of the 
devil appearing in the midst of lurid flames at 


54 Pierre and His Poodle 

the call of a magician whose face was recog- 
nisable as a rude portrait of the owner of the 
van. A legend above and beneath this picture 
announced the fact that “ Signor Stromboli’s 
Escarpolette Diabolique and world-renowned 
Prestidigitateur, Ventriloquist, and Wonder- 
worker — in company with Mohammed Ali 
Baba Asoka, the Magician of the Orient — 
would give seances which would thrill the 
stoutest and most incredulous heart with su- 
pernatural horror, and confound the clearest 
understanding.!’ 

Mohammed grinned as'the prestidigitateur 
appeared with the dogs. “For new trick?” 
he asked. 

“Yes,” replied Signor Stromboli, tying 
Popotte inside the wagon, “ the best trick yet, 
after I have it perfected. You can follow,” 
he said to Zulu; then, suddenly realising 
that the appearance of the dog’s master might 
lead to embarrassing complications, he lifted 
Zulu also to the interior, and, mounting to the 
driver’s seat of the van, both it and the waggon 
jolted more rapidly in the direction of St.- 
Germain. He had a special reason for haste. 
The early comers had the selection of places, 
and he wished to arrive before the dompteur 
(or lion-tamer), who otherwise would certainly 


Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 55 

place his encampment next to that of Made- 
moiselle Tourbillon,the serpent-charmer. 

Signor Stromboli had often met these two 
celebrities at different local fairs; indeed, it 
was seldom that their booths were not pitched 
side by side, for he hated the dompteur as 
much as he pretended to love the fair enchant- 
ress of reptiles. The latter was a very pretty 
young woman, who travelled with her crip- 
pled brother, and made a good living for 
them both by her eccentric and foolhardy 
performances. The prestidigitateur watched 
the people flock into her tent and deposit 
their gross sous with the lame boy who kept 
the door, and he calculated that her earnings 
must easily be twice his own. As he was a 
bachelor, it had occurred to him that a com- 
bination of talent might be effected, and he 
had constituted himself Mademoiselle’s de- 
voted attendant. Mademoiselle accepted his 
friendly offices with nonchalance, allowing 
him and his servant Asoka to assist her 
brother in putting up and taking down the 
tent, in harnessing and in unharnessing the 
horses. She neither encouraged nor dis- 
couraged him, but gave him no opportunity 
for a declaration of his passion. She treated 
the dompteur, who was a widower, in a very 


56 Pierre and His Poodle 

different way. She would accept no kindness 
from him, though she was all goodness to his 
motherless little daughters. Signor Strom- 
boli regarded the dompteur as his rival, but 
was pleased with the way in which Made- 
moiselle treated him, and argued her prefer- 
ence for himself from the difference. On 
this occasion, before setting up his own little 
theatre, he called upon Mademoiselle, regret- 
ting that he had not arrived in time to pitch 
her tent, and presented her with Popotte. 

She is very fat,” he remarked ; “ she will 
make a bonne bouche for your great boa-con- 
strictor Coco.” 

The serpent-charmer felt of Popotte indif- 
ferently. “ She is almost too fat,” she said ; 
“ I fear Coco might choke upon her. How- 
ever, that is easily remedied ; I will starve 
her for a few days. She is too hairy, too. 
She will certainly tickle his throat as she goes 
down.” 

“ You can have her shaved,” suggested 
Signor Stromboli. 

Yes, but she would not look so pretty in 
the final act. I will oil her hair instead. 
You see this fluff of hair makes her look 
much larger than she is, and will make 
the feat seem all the more wonderful. Yes, 


Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 57 

my friend, I am really very grateful to you, 
for with a good deal of starving and a little 
oiling she will do very well.” 

The travelling-vans of the serpent-charmer 
and the ventriloquist were encamped side by 
side behind their exhibition tents, and though 
Zulu and Popotte could not see each other, 
the walls were so thin that by barking loudly 
they could keep up a conversation. 

“ Zulu ! Zulu ! ” barked Popotte, shrilly ; 
“where are you? I am afraid.” 

“ I am here,” Zulu replied encouragingly. 
“ What are you afraid of ? ” 

“ She has tied me in such a horrible, ill- 
smelling little room. There are cages all 
around with fearful serpents in them. They 
are mostly asleep, but there is one which is 
coiling slowly around a naked tree in the 
middle of its cage. There are lamps burning 
in each cage, and the air is thick and noisome. 
Ow ! wow! the snake is looking at me. If 
he should get out, I know he would eat me. 
Oh, Zulu ! whatever shall I do? ” 

“ Look sharp for a chance to run away.” 
“How can I? Even if she should leave 
the door open I am tied with a stout cord.” 

“ Nibble it through ! ” 

“ I can’t ; it tastes badly.” 


58 Pierre and His Poodle 

‘‘Well, be patient; I will get to you by 
and by. Nothing can keep true lovers apart. 
Besides, they won’t keep us tied up like this 
always. Something is sure to happen.” 

“That is just what I am afraid of, for the 
something may not be nice. Zulu, she has 
brought in a saucer of niilk which she has 
placed in the cage where there are most ser- 
pents, but she has not given me any supper. 
There are some rabbits in a box in the cor- 
ner ; they are afraid too. She gave them a 
cabbage leaf, but they are too frightened to 
eat.” 

“ Cheer up, Popotte. My new master has 
just come in. He has put some meat in his 
pocket and he has left the door ajar. He is 
untying me. Now, as soon as his back is 
turned, I will steal that meat and carry it to 
you.” 

Hardly sooner said than done. Signor 
Stromboli had begun to give Zulu his lessons 
in picking pockets, and his apt pupil seized 
upon the idea and the meat, but, much to the 
teacher’s discomfiture, bolted with it through 
the door. Zulu did not go far, however, and 
Signor Stromboli, who followed, found him 
dashing frantically around the serpent-charm- 
er’s van, trying to effect an entrance. The 


Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 59 

prestidigitateur seized Zulu by his shaggy 
pelt and dragged him back to his own van. 
“ This time you shall not get away,” he said, 
as he bolted the door ; and taking away the 
meat, which Zulu had not swallowed, he re- 
peated the performance. 

Again the dog snatched it from his pocket, 
but, finding that with all his scratching and 
pushing, he could not^open the door, instead 
of philosophically swallowing the meat him- 
self, he crouched by the door, guarding it, 
and waiting for an opportunity to rush out. 
Signor Stromboli, having attempted unsuc- 
cessfully to get the meat away from him, 
tried putting a fresh piece in his pocket. 
Zulu, like the dog in the fable, who was 
tempted by the reflection in the water, was 
sorely puzzled as to what it was wisest to do, 
but, being blessed with more judgment than 
the dog who pointed the moral, he reflected 
that a piece of meat under his paw was better 
than one in the bush of speculation, and he 
remained motionless. 

“ Imbecile ! ” growled Signor Stromboli. 
“ Prodigy of stupidity, will you never be 
taught? Eat, then, your meat, and seek 
another morsel. Cherche, I tell you ; ” and he 
waggled his coat-tail temptingly. 


6o 


Pierre and His Poodle 


For answer Zulu thumped the floor amiably 
with his stump of a tail, then sprang to his 
feet with the meat between his teeth, and 
lunged against the door, whining to be let 
out. At the same time Popotte, whose ex- 
pectation had been awakened, wailed impa- 
tiently for supper. 

“ Will you do nothing, unless it is for your 
miserable little companion?” asked Signor 
Stromboli. “Well, since it is so, we will hu- 
mour you for the moment. There, go take 
her the meat, and come again for some more.” 
He opened the door, and, accompanying Zulu 
to Mademoiselle Tourbillon’s vail, explained 
to her that he was teaching his dog a trick 
for which he needed the co-operation of the 
poodle which he had given her. “ Leave 
your door open, so that he can bring her 
meat,” he said ; “ it is the only way that I 
can tempt him to work.” 

“ But I do not wish my dog fed,” said 
Mademoiselle ; “ she is too fat now for Coco 
to swallow ; she must be reduced.” 

“ All very good,” replied the prestidigita- 
teur; “I did not ask that your dog should 
eat, only that mine should be permitted to 
enter. You can muzzle your dog, and I fancy 
mine will never know the difference.” 


Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 6i 

Zulu dropped the meat before Popotte, 
and watched her eat with great satisfaction ; 
but as soon as his cruel master dragged him 
away, Mademoiselle Tourbillon took the meat 
from Popotte, and tied her jaws together 
so tightly that the poor little creature could 
neither eat nor bark; but Zulu, who knew 
nothing of this, frisked gaily back after 
Signor Stromboli and robbed him as cleverly 
as he could wish. But, on laying his offering 
before his little bride, he at once discovered 
that something was wrong. Vainly he tried 
to undo the knots of the cord, and, finding 
that his own efforts were powerless, he barked 
loudly for assistance. In vain Mademoiselle 
threatened him with a broom and tried to 
drive him from the van. In vain Signor 
Stromboli called and coaxed. Zulu had to 
be dragged from Popotte’s side, and the les- 
sons were ended for that night, for he obsti- 
nately refused to “ do anything.” He made 
himself a nuisance to all neighbours by bark- 
ing and howling dismally all night, the more 
persistently because Popotte did not reply to 
him ; and if Nagy Pal had not been far away 
at the dog market, he would have recognised 
the baying of his lost actor. 

The next morning Signor Stromboli at- 


62 


Pierre and His Poodle 


tempted to resume his lessons. Zulu was 
obdurate ; after one tour of exploration he 
would do nothing. “ There is no help for 
it,” said the prestidigitateur to Mademoiselle. 
“ I must ask you to unmuzzle your dog, at 
least for this morning, while the lessons are 
going on. You can snatch away the food as 
soon as my dog returns and give it to me ; 
in that way yours will not get enough to 
fatten her.” 

All the morning Zulu worked faithfully and 
gleefully, and Popotte was able, by his re- 
peated gifts, to nibble enough to support life. 
Signor Stromboli did not always put meat in 
his pocket. He wished to accustom Zulu to 
stealing other objects. He therefore smeared 
an old pocket-book with gravy, and the dog 
carried it to Popotte under the mistaken idea 
that it was a dainty. 

Under the pretence that so much coming 
and going might annoy Mademoiselle, Signor 
Stromboli borrowed Popotte, tied her in his 
van, and carried on the lessons in his exhibi- 
tion tent. He trained Zulu to more adroit- 
ness in snatching the pocket-book, not 
allowing him to take it when he did it blun- 
deringly or awkwardly. The dog accom- 
plished his thefts with such delicacy of touch 


Adventures of Popotte and Zulu 63 

that his teacher was half minded to try him 
that afternoon at his opening performance ; 
but he reflected that a premature trial and 
possible fiasco would be disastrous, and he 
decided to wait until the last day of the fete, 
when the crowd would be denser, and he 
would have an opportunity to escape in the 
general breaking up of the encampment. 
Accordingly, while Signor Stromboli was 
causing flowers to grow out of empty pots, 
and beating watches into powder to find 
them again intact in the pockets of innocent 
and astonished persons, Popotte and Zulu 
enjoyed a brief interval of repose and of com- 
fort in one another’s society, though close 
prisoners in the van. 



Chcipter 4 



Pierre had wandered about disconsolately, 
seeking for employment, and late in the even- 
ing he paused in front of the cake booth, 
watching the woman make and serve waffles. 
Three little girls came up as he stood there, 
and the good woman served them without 
demanding any pay. Emboldened by this 
generosity, and thinking that possibly, now 
that the custom of the day was over, the 
woman was giving away what would other- 
wise be wasted, Pierre asked if he too might 
have a waffle. 

“ Par exemple ! ” exclaimed the maker of 
friandises. “ Was there ever such presump- 



Pierre and the Lion-tamer 65 

tion? Because I choose to entertain the 
motherless children of my old friend and 
neighbour, the dompteur, am I therefore 
obliged to give to every chance tramp and 
beggar? Get out with you, and learn to earn 
your living honestly, like the rest of us ! ” 

“ I ask no better,” Pierre replied sadly. 
“ I would accept any employment, no matter 
how menial or dangerous.” 

“ If that is so, you are the boy for me, for I 
need an assistant until the close of the fete,” 
said a sharp voice at his elbow. It was a 
voice that startled one like the report of a 
pistol or the crack of a whip, — the voice of 
one accustomed to command, and to punish 
unmercifully if disobeyed. Pierre turned 
quickly and saw a lithe, thin man, with a 
piercing glance which seemed to see through 
him to the very marrow of his bones, and was 
certainly a discerner of the thoughts of his 
heart. It was the dompteur, who had come 
for his little girls ; but the way in which they 
nestled close to him and clung to each hand 
showed that he could be loved as well as 
feared, and Pierre replied unhesitatingly, “ I 
am ready. Monsieur; give your orders.” 

“ Then first eat some of my good neigh- 
bour’s waffles, for which I will pay, — for my 
5 


66 


Pierre and His Poodle 


dinner was over hours ago, — and then I will 
show you where you are to sleep. Your 
work will not begin until to-morrow morning, 
but you must be up betimes. I wish you to 
clean out the cages of my beasts and feed 
them, and make all ready for the day’s 
performance. Come, I will show you what 
you are to do, so that you may go to work 
before I get up.” 

Having devoured his waffles, Pierre followed 
his new master into his amphitheatre and was 
introduced to the menagerie. A row of great 
cages — communicating with one another on 
the side by sliding doors, which could be man- 
aged by a person in front by pulling different 
chains — faced the empty seats. The central 
cage was much larger than the others, and 
was really the stage upon, or rather in which, 
the performances were given. It had a door 
at the rear through which the dompteur en- 
tered. The cages to the left of this were 
empty ; those to the right were each of them 
occupied by a snarling lion or tiger. 

“ Pull the chain whose handle is marked 
No. 7 ! ” commanded the dompteur. Pierre 
did so, and the door between the first cage on 
the right and the performing cage slid slowly 
upward. 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 67 

“Fasten the handle to the hook beneath it. 
Now take that crowbar and beat on the bars 
of the cage, and the lion will pass on into the 
performing cage. Next pull the handle? 
8, 9, 10, II, 12, 13, and you will give the 
lion opportunity to pass through to the last 
compartment. Lower the gate. You have 
now got him safely fastened in the last cage 
at the extreme left, and by raising the other 
doors successively you can make the beasts 
pass along, leaving all of the cages on the 
right empty, so that you can go in and clean 
them. Be very careful in your management 
of the doors. We barely missed a serious 
accident at Fontainebleau through the stu- 
pidity of my former assistant.” 

Pierre manipulated the chains and drove 
the animals from one cage to another to the 
dompteur’s satisfaction. He then extinguished 
the lights and was shown a bed in a van at 
the rear. The next morning he was up early 
and proceeded to put into practice his mas- 
ter’s instructions. He moved the beasts care- 
fully, brought water and scrubbed the cages 
as they had not been cleaned for months, fed 
the animals as he had been shown, dusted 
the seats, and looked about vainly for some- 
thing else to do. There was plenty of water 



Pierre and the Lion-tamer 69 

left, and it struck him that one old lion looked 
remarkably mangy and dirty, and would be 
improved by a little grooming. He accord- 
ingly entered the cage with a pail of water 
and a large sponge, and proceeded to admin- 
ister a bath and to comb his mane witk 
Popotte’s toilet comb which he had brought 
with him. The lion did not altogether like 
the application of the water, but he was old 
and toothless, so, though he roared angrily 
and struck at Pierre with his paw, he did him 
no injury. Encouraged by his success, Pierre 
passed on into the cage of the Bengal tiger. 
The water was nearly gone, but Pierre rubbed 
the animal down with the moist sponge. It 
had just completed its breakfast, and was 
composing itself for a nap. Pierre’s touch 
was gentle and caressing, and the great beast 
purred and stretched itself, and turned of its 
own accord to allow its other side to be 
rubbed. While Pierre was in the midst of his 
barber-like occupation, the dompteur entered 
the amphitheatre and looked on with horror. 
Pierre was combing the animal’s throat and 
looking into its great sleepy, lambent eyes, 
and the dompteur dared not avert Pierre’s 
gaze, which he felt was fascinating the tiger. 
Commanding his voice so that there was in it 


yo Pierre and His Poodle 

only the least perceptible tremor, he said, 
“ Do not take your eyes off the tiger’s for a 
single instant, on peril of your life.” 

Pierre felt the intensity in the voice, and, 
alarmed, stopped his rubbing. The tiger sat 
up and looked at him attentively, and the 
dompteur continued : “ Back instantly out 

of the cage — quick ! ” Pierre obeyed, keep- 
ing his gaze fixed on the tiger’s eyes. He 
had hardly passed through the gateway when 
the dompteur, whose hand was on the chain, 
dropped the grille, and not an instant too 
soon, for the tiger had crouched at Pierre’s 
first backward step, and now sprang against 
the descending bars. 

Pierre turned very white, and became sud- 
denly faint with the appreciation of his dan- 
ger; but the dompteur shook him angrily, 
and his sharp, scornful voice recalled him to 
his senses : “ Fool, idiot, I suppose you think 
you are a hero ! You thought you were do- 
ing a smart thing, did n’t you ? and that all 
one needed to be a lion-tamer was impudence. 
Well, you don’t feel so fine now. It does n’t 
take any courage, only ignorance and fool- 
hardiness to play with wild beasts for the first 
time. You will have to give an encore of 
that pretty performance with a full knowledge 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 71 

that you are taking your life in your hands, 
before I will give you any credit for bravery. 
You’ve had a good lesson, and I see there ’s 
no need of cautioning you. You ’ll not try 
to steal my trade again.” 

“ I beg your pardon, sir,” Pierre cried. 
“ I did not know I was doing anything you 
would not like, and I thank you for getting 
me out. I know now that you saved my 
life. I will never meddle with your beasts 
again. I don’t see how you can do it. I 
would not be a dompteur for anything in the 
world.” 

The lion-tamer smiled grimly. “ It is not a 
pleasant life that such performers as Made- 
moiselle Tourbillon and I lead. You owe your 
escape partly to the fact that the tiger was 
not hungry and did not immediately awake 
to the fact that you would make a good 
dessert to her breakfast. We keep our ani- 
mals over-fed, and they are lazy. Neither of 
us would venture to tamper with our crea- 
tures when they are hungry, which reminds 
me that coffee is ready; wash yourself and 
come in to breakfast.” 

Coffee was served by the eldest of the 
three little girls, Maximiliene. The other two, 
Adrienne and Augustine (the father explained 


72 


Pierre and His Poodle 


that he had named them for Roman em- 
perors), were, in decreasing ratio, exact 
counterparts of their sister. They were all 
dark, and wore their black locks tightly 
braided in two pigtails. They watched 
Pierre with their piercing, bead-like eyes, 
the only feature in which they strikingly 
resembled their father. It seemed to Pierre 
that he had never been so scrutinised in his 
life. The result appeared to be satisfactory^ 
for when the dompteur left, remarking that 
Pierre might do what he chose for an hour, 
Maximiliene volunteered the information, 
“ We like you.” 

“ I am glad of that,” Pierre replied. “ Can 
I do anything to help you ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Maximiliene ; “ we are go- 
ing to take our lesson of Monsieur Sauteur, 
the acrobat, and you can come along and 
watch, and take care of Augustine, and take 
her home if she is silly and cries.” Maxi- 
miliene and Adrienne retired to the interior 
of their van, and came out again dressed in 
similar costumes to that which Minka had 
worn when Pierre had seen her going through 
her exercise in the park; and when they 
reached the acrobat's tent, they found Minka 
already there taking a lesson. She was swing- 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 73 

ing on a flying trapeze in a perilous position; 
but she noticed Pierre’s entrance and scowled 
at him fiercely. When Maximiliene was called 
forward, and it was Minka’s turn to rest, she 
approached Pierre and asked him brusquely, 
“ What have you come here for? ” 

Pierre hesitated, from his dislike of being 
impolite and the impossibility for him to be 
untruthful. “ I am hunting for Popotte,” he 
said at length. 

“And why are you hunting for her here? 
You need not answer. You think that we 
have stolen her ! It is an indignity for w^hich 
I will never forgive you. The idea that my 
father would steal such a miserable little 
weasel as your dog ! I might charge you, 
with much more reason, with stealing our 
Zulu. Listen : I do not believe you stole him, 
for you have not sense enough to appreciate 
his value; but I believe your father mur- 
dered him. No, you need not flush up and 
clench your fists. Strike me, if you think it 
is a fine thing for a boy to strike a girl. I 
am not afraid of you, though you are the son 
of a murderer. Our poor Zulu, while stroll- 
ing innocently in your park, was probably 
caught and killed in one of your vile wolf- 
traps.” 


74 


Pierre and His Poodle 


“ It is possible,” Pierre replied, “ but it is 
not my father’s fault. I told you that there 
were traps in the forest ; you should not have 
allowed your dog to course there for our 
rabbits. If you took Popotte to make up for 
your loss, I beg you will let me have her, 
and I will pay you whatever your dog was 
worth.” 

“ I tell you again that my father does not 
steal.” 

“ He stole our rabbits.” 

No, that was Zulu ; he knew no better 
than to run them down and bring them to us.” 

“ But you knew better than to eat them. 
You might have whipped Zulu and taught 
him better morals.” 

Minka flushed deeply and did not reply. 
The shaft had gone home, and Pierre was 
sorry for her. He wanted to say something 
kindly; but he could think of nothing, and 
he was awkwardly silent. Adrienne came to 
the rescue. “You must not be angry with 
each other, you two ; I am sure you could not 
have stolen each other’s dogs. It is very 
funny, but I am sure you will find out that 
some bad person has taken them both, and 
has made all this trouble.” 

Minka tossed her head, and her eyes flashed ; 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 


75 


she was still angry and humiliated. Adrienne 
placed her arm about her waist and drew her 
away to a little distance. “ What is he doing 
here?” Minka asked. “Is he staying with 
you ? ” Adrienne told the story of Pierre’s 
adventure with ‘the tiger. She told it with 
animation, for in her eyes Pierre was quite a 
hero. They had made the circuit of the ring 
and were approaching again the spot where 
he sat with baby Augustine on his knee, 
trying to quiet her fears as she watched 
Maximiliene hanging by her heels from the 
trapeze. 

“ And so,” concluded Adrienne, “ I want 
you to like him, for we think he is very brave 
and handsome.” 

“For my part,” Minka replied, quite 
loudly enough for Pierre to hear, “ I find 
him enormously ugly and stupid.” 

“ Was it stupid then to wash the tiger?” 

“ Certainly, and more stupid still in the 
tiger not to eat him. I would have done so 
in the tiger’s place.” 

Pierre’s eyes twinkled mischievously. 

“ Then that is a proof. Mademoiselle, that 
you find me to your taste.” 

Minka was furious. “ You dare to make 
jokes about me ! ” she exclaimed. “ I hate 


76 Pierre and His Poodle 

you,” and springing to the parallel bars she 
worked off her excitement in a series of re- 
markable evolutions, whirling about the bar 
until Pierre’s own brain spun, and he could 
think of nothing but a revolving Saint 
Catharine’s wheel. She was' far more expert 
and daring than the dompteur’s daughters, 
but they were not jealous. Evidently she 
could be affectionate when she wished, for 
they were very fond of her and clapped their 
small thin hands at the close of each feat. 
Pierre joined in the applause ; strangely 
enough, he admired and liked the little spit- 
fire, in spite of her rudeness to him, more 
than either Maximiliene or Adrienne with all 
their kindness. He was sorry that he had 
angered her, and was determined to show 
that it was not intentional. Each morning 
while the fete lasted he accompanied the 
little namesakes of the Roman emperors 
to the saltimbanque’s tent to see them take 
their lessons, or rather he watched Minka, 
who never failed to toss him some gibe, or 
make fun of him to the other girls. Her 
conduct proved that she was at least not in- 
different: and if Pierre had but known that 
the lively interest which she manifested in 
teasing him was, in a girl of her temperament. 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 77 

a sign that he exercised a stronger influence 
over her than she desired, he would not have 
been so unhappy under her derision. 

After the children had rehearsed their 
lesson, Pierre always returned to the domp- 
teur’s menagerie, and was kept busy during 
the remainder of the day and evening. The 
fete was now in full blast, and the dompteur’s 
exhibition was the favourite one. All day 
long the lions were made to work, until Pierre 
felt a real pity for them and an admiration 
not alone for the courage but also for the 
endurance of the trainer. A loaded gun 
stood in a corner of the exhibition cage, but 
it was said that he had never used it but once, 
and then with fatal effect. His wife was also 
a trainer of savage animals, but on one occa- 
sion, when performing before a large audi- 
ence, the lion sprang upon her, and the pretty 
woman lay dead in all her tinselled ballet 
finery, killed not by the savage brute but by 
a shot which her husband had fired in her 
defence. This was the reason why the 
dompteur never used the gun, his only de- 
fence being a stout raw-hide whip. The gun 
stood there as a menace, which some of the 
more experienced animals understood. A 
mighty lion that had been wounded by the 


78 Pierre and His Poodle 

hunters who captured him would be reduced 
to instant submission by merely pointing at 
it ; but it was a fetich and nothing else, and it 
is doubtful whether the trainer would have 
deigned to save his own life with the instru- 
ment which had taken that of his wife. Pierre 
grew to admire the dompteur more as he 
knew him better; and if he had not been 
so much attached to the St. Angels he 
would have been content to remain with him 
indefinitely. He was beginning to lose hope 
of finding Popotte. For no reason which he 
could explain to himself, he had come to 
believe that Nagy Pal had not stolen her ; and, 
as they were leaving the acrobat’s tent on the 
last day but one of the fete, he said simply to 
Minka, “ I want to tell you that I don’t think 
any longer that your father took our dog, and 
I am sorry that I hurt your feelings.” 

Minka stared at him in astonishment. 
“What has brought you to that conclusion? ” 
she asked. “ Have you been spying about 
our roulette (van), and discovered that we 
have not been keeping her hidden away? ” 

“ That would not have convinced me, for 
you might have sold her, or have given her 
to some one else to keep for you ; but I have 
been watching you, and I am sure that you 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 79 

are too good a girl to do such a thing, or to 
think it right; and you are so proud of your 
father that I am sure he has not done it.” 

Minka’s eyes grew wider in their surprise. . 

“ Tiens, but you are an amusing boy,” she 
said. 

“ I do not say it to be amusing, but only 
because I am going back to the chateau after 
the fete is over, and I wanted you to know 
that I have given up hunting for Popotte 
here, because I have too much respect for 
you to suspect you or your father any 
longer ” 

“ How stupid you are ! You have not ques- 
tioned my father ; you have not seen our dogs 
perform here. Your people will think that 
you have not done your duty. You would 
better follow us to a few more fetes, and watch 
us a little longer.” 

This was said without the slightest at- 
tempt at irony. To Pierre’s great astonish- 
ment the girl seemed to wish him to remain 
in the troupe. 

“Oh, you must not leave us,” chimed in 
Maximiliene and Adrienne. “ We all like 
you, and even Minka does not think that you 
are so ugly as she did at first. At least, she 
said the other day that you were like the 


8o 


Pierre and His Poodle 


gargoyles they have on the chteaux, — 
they were so ugly that they were not com- 
mon.” 

Minka was confused. “No, no; I did not 
say that,” she contradicted. An hour before 
she would have liked nothing better than to 
have had Pierre think that she considered 
him ugly, but his generous admission that he 
was mistaken in his suspicions had disarmed 
her anger. Pierre imagined that she was 
vexed that he should think that he possessed 
any kind of distinction. 

“ Good-bye,” he said, as they reached the 
dompteur’s tent ; “ I may not see you to- 
morrow.” 

“ If you are really going, you must come 
now and .see a rehearsal of the performance 
which my father will give to-morrow. I in- 
sist that you shall inspect our dogs, so that 
you can give your master some proof of your 
belief in our innocence.” 

Arrived at the Varietes Amusantes, the joint 
theatre for the puppet show and trained dogs, 
Zizi, the daughter of the clown, who was also 
the proprietor of the puppets, admitted the 
children to a row of seats near the stage, and 
Pierre looked on while Nagy Pal drilled the 
new dog which he had purchased at the 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 


Marche, in the old parts in which Zulu had 
excelled. 

“ How stupid he is ! ” said Maximiliene ; “ not 
a bit like Zulu.” The dompteur’s little girls 
had had free admission to many of the per- 
formances and were extremely critical. “ Zulu 
was so intelligent,” continued Minka ; “ he 
was a true artist. He must have been stolen 
by some one who knew his genius, and who 
intends to exhibit him. Probably it is the 
same person who took your dog. I am sure 
that if you go from fete to fete with us we shall 
finish by discovering him.” 

It was Pierre’s turn to be astonished. “ I 
did not know that you thought your dog had 
been stolen. You said that you believed my 
father killed him.” 

Minka smiled mischievously. Pierre 
thought she had never looked so pretty. 
He had admired her before, but he almost 
loved her as she said, “ I did think so; but 
I believe now that your father is too kind 
a man to have done that, — that is, if he is at 
all like you. Come, now, and look through 
our van ; you must be thorough in your 
search.” 

Pierre followed her half dazed. There was 
no trace of Popotte anywhere, and he was 
6 


82 


Pierre and His Poodle 


glad of it, for he felt that he would , rather 
Popotte would not be found at all than to 
discover that Minka or her father had stolen 
her. 

As he passed the prestidigitateur’s tent 
with the dompteur’s children he stopped to 
read the inscriptions. 

** Come along,” said Maximiliene, in her 
father’s authoritative way. “ Come along, or 
the devil may catch you.” 

Pierre gave another glance at the startling 
paintings which had been transferred from 
Signor Stromboli’s van to the front of his 
tent and asked, “ Is the devil his friend? ” 

“ He says so,” Maximiliene replied. “ He 
says that the devil helps him do his tricks.” 

“ It is not exactly so,” interrupted Adri- 
enne. “ Come along faster, and I will tell you 
a secret; ” and she pulled Pierre’s head down 
to a level with her lips and whispered, “ He is 
the devil himself” 

As Pierre looked incredulous, and even 
smiling, she contracted her black brows and 
walked on silently with offended dignity. 

“ He is the only bad man among all the 
artists in the troupe,” said Maximiliene. 
“All the others are braves gens, honnetcs 
gens:' 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 83 

“ If that is so,” said Pierre, “ I do not be- 
lieve there is any hope of finding Popotte 
here, and I do not see why Minka should ex- 
pect to find Zulu.” 

“ That is true,” Maximiliene replied ; “ for 
even if any of the artists were bad enough to 
steal him, they could not exhibit him, for 
Zulu is so well known by all of us that he 
would be instantly recognised.” 

In truth, if Signor Stromboli had not been 
of so solitary a temperament, he would him- 
self have recognised the dog as belonging to 
the troupe of one of his neighbours. But he 
never attended a representation of any of his 
coiifrheSy excepting occasionally the seances 
of the serpent-charmer, and lived a selfish, 
unsocial life. Frankly returning his indiffer- 
ence, none of the other comedians, even in 
their moments of leisure, honoured his phe- 
nomena by their presence. 

Adrienne alone, being of a prying disposi- 
tion, had occasionally fitted her eye to a rent 
in the tent in order to see Asoka go through 
the basket trick. In this perilous perform- 
ance Asoka, who was a little man and very 
supple, would allow himself to be tied into a 
ball with a net about him, and lifted into a 
large basket, which he apparently filled. 


84 


Pierre and His Poodle 


Here he would divest himself of the net and 
coil himself closely against the sides of the 
basket, so that Signor Stromboli could step 
into the middle and jump up and down, and 
even thrust a sword through the sides in an 
apparently reckless fashion. In reality, the 
spots at which the sword entered were carefully 
agreed upon beforehand, and Asoka would 
seize the blade and guide it, so that there was 
little danger. As the basket contracted slightly 
at the top. Signor Stromboli would close the 
exhibition by rolling it about the stage with 
the opening toward the audience, who were 
always positive that it was empty. When, 
after all this, Asoka sprang from the interior 
unharmed, it is no wonder that Adrienne was 
convinced that such wonders could only have 
been effected by the arch fiend himself. 

Adrienne would have been horrified if she 
had known that her friend Minka believed 
firmly in the possibility of diabolic assistance, 
and was this very evening wearing a charm to 
evoke it. When the children left the Varietes 
Amusantes, Minka busied herself preparing 
her father’s supper. After the meal the two 
took their violins, as was their wont, and 
sat by the camp-fire playing weird melodies. 
After a time Minka threw down her violin. 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 85 

exclaiming, “ I wish my grandmother were 
here ! ” 

“Why do you wish that, daughter? ” asked 
Nagy Pal. 

“ Because she was a gypsy of the gypsies, 
and would teach me something of Rommany 
lore and customs. I am a Rommany girl ; 
but I am growing up as ignorant as a Gorgio 
(Christian). I cannot tell fortunes, or divine 
hidden water, or bring a wasting spell on 
man or beast ; I know nothing of our history ; 
I have lived so long away from our people 
that when I come to them again they will 
cast me out.” 

Nagy Pal looked at his daughter with pride. 
“You are a true daughter of the Rommany,” 
he said, “ and the spirit of Egypt is beginning 
to move within you. I will take you at the 
end of the summer back to our own people, 
and my mother, who is a queen of one of the 
clans, shall instruct you.” 

Minka did not seem satisfied. “ That is a 
long time to wait. Will you not begin teach- 
ing me yourself? ” 

“What do you want to know? to tell for- 
tunes, I suppose, and to make love philtres. 
That is old women’s business ; I cannot do 
that.” 


86 Pierre and His Poodle 

“ But there are other things which you 
know, and which I want to know.” 

“The language of beasts? Yes, I can 
whisper to a horse and he will follow me, and 
I have learned to talk to my dogs and to 
understand them. It is an easier language 
than that of men, and it shows the superi- 
ority of dogs over men ; for, if a gypsy dog of 
Spain or of the Moors meets a Christian dog 
of a far country in London, they will talk 
together, but a gypsy man of Spain cannot 
understand the language of the men of Lon- 
don or be understood by them. Zulu and I 
had many conversations together. If I ever 
find him again, I will teach you to talk 
together. 

“ I do not care to learn the language of 
dogs,” Minka replied. “ I would rather learn 
more human languages.” 

“ What, then, do you wish? ” 

Minka looked about her and shivered, and 
then bent forward and whispered to her 
father. 

“ The evil eye ! ” he exclaimed. “ Why 
should you wish to possess the power of cast- 
ing the evil eye? It is a terrible thing to 
cause the death of a human being.” 

“ Not death,” replied the girl, “ but a charm 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 87 

to bind and to hold, to keep another in my 
own power, to hinder his going when he wills 
to do so, to cause others to fancy themselves 
ill when they are not.” 

“ And a terrible power is that also, but one 
always desired by women, and possessed by 
many not of our race. The learned physi- 
cians of the Christians are beginning to take 
it into account and to study it. They call 
it hypnotism, but they have not the secret 
charm which unlocks the mystery ; they are 
playing with fire ; they had better leave it 
alone. And you, too, Minka, — you are too 
young; wait till you are a woman, and y( 5 u 
will then feel the power coming of itself. 
The eye of every beautiful woman is an evil 
eye, powerful to bind and to hold the will of 
man.” 

But Minka fixed her piercing gaze on her 
father. “I have felt the power, but I do 
not know how to use it. Teach me now, 
or I shall go about using it ignorantly, and 
shall do much mischief, for I do not know 
how to take away will without taking away 
life.” 

Nagy Pal shook his head incredulously. 
“ You could do neither,” he said, “ unless you 
knew the words of the charm.” 


88 


Pierre and His Poodle 


‘‘ I remember them partly,” Minka replied. 

I remember going to a farmer’s house with 
my grandmother. She stopped by the hog- 
sty and said the words over a fat swine, then 
we went on our way ; but when we came back 
the swine was dead of raving madness, and 
they had dragged his carcass down to the 
river, and thrown him in. We followed on 
the bank as it floated down toward our en- 
campment, and when the farmer’s men were 
out of sight, my grandmother repeated an- 
other charm, and the swine swam merrily to 
the shore and trotted after us. I remember 
the first charm ; it was — ” 

“ Stop ! stop ! ” cried Nagy Pal, in great 
alarm, “ or you will bewitch me ; even now 
I fear you have brought great trouble upon 
me. I will teach you the words which bind 
and hold, but you must never use them 
except in great necessity, and you must be 
careful to remember the counter-charm, or 
the same mischief will recoil upon yourself 
If you say , your victim will be power- 

less to leave you. Your will will be his. He 
will imagine himself stricken by an evil dis- 
ease, a wasting sickness, poisoned by the 
breath of serpents ; but in reality it is only 


Pierre and the Lion-tamer 89 

his mind that is sick, and he will be your 
slave.” 

“ And how can I remove the spell? ” 

“ It can never be removed except by re- 
peating the charm backward, when his will 
will be yours, and you will be his slave.” 



Chapter 5 


I THE EVIL EYE- 1 



And so the fete of St. -Germain went merrily 
on, apparently all gaiety and innocent fun, 
but with undercurrents of evil for man and 
beast, — for Popotte, who had lived hitherto 
a life of luxury, and was now being starved 
by inches in preparation for a horrible death ; 
and for Zulu, a dog of unselfish instincts, who 
was daily being educated, through his noblest 
feelings, to the profession of a thief. 

He had learned his lessons so well that on 
the afternoon of the last day of the fete Signor 
Stromboli had ventured to allow him to put 
them in practice. Zulu was placed in the 
back part of the darkened auditorium, where 
he was not noticed by the spectators, who 


91 


The Evil Eye 

entered blinded by the transition from sun- 
shine to comparative darkness. The stage 
on which the prestidigitateur performed his 
tricks was lighted by a row of footlights, and 
as the magician began his continuous per- 
formance before the entry of the majority 
of his audience, who straggled in and out 
throughout the afternoon, the attention of 
those entering was immediately directed 
toward the stage. Asoka, who took the en- 
trance money, slyly slipped slices of sausage 
into the pockets of two of the persons who 
passed him, which Zulu, whose senses had 
been sharpened from having had no luncheon, 
immediately scented and appropriated, and 
afterwards investigated every available pocket 
in the hope of finding more. As the push- 
ing, scrambling crowd stumbled down the 
steps of the amphitheatre, they scarcely felt, 
or if they noticed did not recognise, his deli- 
cate touch. Zulu accordingly availed himself 
of one greasy pocket-book after another, 
creeping out with them under the seats and 
depositing them before Popotte, who was still 
tied in Signor Stromboli’s van, as she was not 
yet needed for the grand serpent-swallowing 
act, which \vas to take place late in the 
evening. 


92 


Pierre and His Poodle 


For a long time Zulu’s thefts were surpris- 
ingly successful. The persons robbed, not 
having occasion to use their purses until they 
had left the tent, did not discover their losses 
immediately, and did not all locate the theft 
as having taken place inside. A few returned 
and angrily proclaimed their grievances to 
Asoka, but he protested that the robbery 
must have been committed by some pick- 
pocket in the audience. He proved, by call- 
ing his neighbours to witness, that their 
troupe consisted only of Signor Stromboli 
and himself, and that the signor had not left 
the stage, nor had he quitted his post as 
doorkeeper, and the prestidigitateur reaped 
a large harvest in the course of the forenoon. 
Not only did he secure some twenty pocket- 
books, many of which were well filled, but a 
strange fatality brought into his grasp the 
famous St. Angel rubies. 

Ever since Pierre had departed on his luck- 
less quest, Ludovic had mourned for him 
almost as much as for Popotte. He visited 
the gamekeeper’s cottage every day to learn 
if there were any news, and when Pierre’s 
mother produced a letter from her son, say- 
ing that he was at St.-Germain, where he 
intended to remain until the close of the fete. 


93 


The Evil Eye 

Ludovic entreated his parents to take him to 
the fete. On the last day the Marquis con- 
sented to do so, and with Ludovic by his side 
and a boy in buttons sitting with folded arms 
behind, drove over to St.-Germain in Ludo- 
vic’s trap. 

Just as he was leaving, the Marquise handed 
her husband the case containing the ruby 
necklace, and asked him, as he intended to 
return by way of Paris, to leave it at a jewel- 
ler’s to have the broken pendant mended. 
The Marquis placed the casket in the breast 
pocket of his overcoat, and did not think of it 
again until his arrival at the jeweller’s. 

He left the trap with the groom at the inn 
at St.-Germain, and walked through the forest 
with Ludovic to the Fete des Loges. The boy 
had not been allowed to attend many fetes, 
and he was delighted with the spirit of gaiety, 
— with the whirling merry-go-rounds and the 
noisy music ; with the painted clown caper- 
ing in front of the Varietes Amusantes, and 
the acrobat tumbling on his strip of carpet, 
the centre of a group of admirers. He wanted 
to see the puppets and to taste the waffles, to 
buy the toy trumpets and to ride in the 
merry-go-rounds. The Marquis himself felt 
inclined to give his little boy pleasure, and 


94 Pierre and His Poodle 

when they reached the tent of the prestidigita- 
teur, and Asoka in his Oriental dress announced 
from the little veranda that he was about to 
give the famous fakir basket trick, the Mar- 
quis, who had seen such a performance in 
India and considered it very interesting, pro- 
posed to Ludovic that they should wit- 
ness it. 

Inside the tent it was very warm and close, 
and the Marquis thoughtlessly took off his 
overcoat and laid it on the bench beside him. 
The basket trick was very well done, and the 
Marquis and Ludovic went out much pleased 
with the performance. They passed directly 
to the lion-tamer’s menagerie and inquired for 
Pierre, who came out at once and was over- 
joyed to meet them. 

“ But I have not found Popotte,” he said 
sadly to Ludovic ; “ and what is more, I do 
not think she can be anywhere at this fete. 
I am sure that the dog-trainer did not take 
her, and I do not know what to do or where 
to go.” 

“ Give up the search, my dear fellow,” said 
the Marquis, “ and come back with us to the 
chateau. I will buy Ludovic another dog, 
which you can take care of.” 

“Yes, come, dear Pierre,” said Ludovic, 


The Evil Eye 


95 


“ since there is no hope of finding Popotte ; 
but I do not want another dog. I could 
never love it, and it would only remind me of 
my lost darling.” 

They had walked back to the inn, and the 
groom had brought out the trap. 

“Jump up behind,” said the Marquis, “ and 
we will take you back ; it will be a nice sur- 
prise for your mother, who has cried her eyes 
out for you.” 

“ I will come to-morrow,” said Pierre ; “ but 
I have promised the dompteur to stay with 
him until the end of the fete. He will need 
me all day and to-morrow in the breaking 
up. So if you will let me ride back to the 
menagerie, I will do my best to finish my 
engagement with credit, and will surely come 
to you to-morrow.” 

As they drove briskly along the avenue 
the Marquis felt the coolness of the air, and 
realised for the first time that he had left his 
overcoat in the tent of the prestidigitateur. 
He drew rein before the door and demanded 
of Asoka in such a peremptory manner that 
Pierre should be allowed to go in and get it, 
that the East Indian was so frightened that 
he allowed Pierre to enter. Pierre found the 
overcoat exactly where the Marquis had de- 


96 Pierre and His Poodle 

scribed, for it had not been observed by either 
Signor Stromboli or Asoka, though it had 
not escaped Zulu’s sharp eyes and prying 
nose. The Marquis put it on immediately, 
without feeling in the pocket or thinking of 
the rubies, and with a cordial good-bye drove 
off in the direction of Paris. 

Pierre turned to hasten back to his master, 
and found himself face to face with Minka. 
She wore an angry scowl, and he wondered 
that he had thought her pretty the day before 
when she had spoken so kindly to him. 

“You are really going back to your 
people,” she said. “ I heard you say so just 
now.” 

“ Yes, Minka, I am sorry to leave you ; 
but — ” 

“ But you like that scornful little aristocrat 
better ; you cannot deny it.” 

“ I like you so much, Minka, that I wish 
you would come with me. I heard the 
Marquise say that she would receive you 
whenever you chose to come.” 

“ That is your will, but it is not mine. It 
is mine that you shall stay here and live with 
us, and we will see which is the stronger. 
Will you stay of your own accord, because 
you like me and — because I like you ? ” Her 


The Evil Eye 97 

voice and look were tender again, almost as 
they had been the day before. 

“ No, dear Minka, I must go ; but I will 
never forget you.” 

“ You shall not go. You shall stay against 
your will,” Minka hissed ; and she looked at 
him with such a horrible expression that 
Pierre covered his eyes and ran away, but 
not before he heard her utter some strange 
words in a language which he did not under- 
stand, — the spell which bound and held and 
wasted the body with imaginary sickness, 
the spell of the evil eye. 

Pierre returned to his duties at the 
dompteur’s, and Minka to the Varietes 
Amusantes. The girl was in a tumult of 
conflicting emotions. She waited with tri- 
umph and with apprehension the result of her 
incantation. She was so excited that she 
had forgotten to repeat the counter-charm, 
which would keep the spell from recoiling in 
disaster upon herself and family, and she did 
not even think of the omission until later in 
the afternoon, when a most serious misfortune 
happened to her father. 

Signor Stromboli had continued to do a 
thriving business until the close of the day, 
when the complaints of those who had been 
7 


98 Pierre and His Poodle 

robbed grew more frequent, and the aggrieved 
persons put their heads together and called 
upon a gendarme for assistance. This agent 
of the law very sensibly remarked that if 
he should enter the room the thief, recog- 
nising his uniform, would probably cease 
operations, and advised them to find the 
pickpocket, when he would appear and arrest 
him. 

Acting on this advice, a peasant, who had 
lost a roll of bank notes, put in effect the 
following stratagem. He rolled a newspaper 
into a similar wad, and, fastening it with a 
stout pin to the lining of his pocket, again 
sauntered into the tent. An almost imme- 
diate twitch at his pocket advertised him that 
the thief had fallen into the trap. Striking out 
with his right fist at his nearest neighbour and 
clutching at the skirt of his coat with his left 
hand, he caught, not a man’s hand, as he had 
expected, but a dog’s nose. The innocent 
person so rudely assaulted raised an outcry, 
and rained blows in return ; but the peasant 
had presence of mind not to lose his grip on 
Zulu, at the same time shouting his apologies 
and explanations. The gendarme rushed in, 
seized another innocent person, who struggled 
violently, and the melee became general. 


The Evil Eye 


99 


The prestidigitateiir availed himself of the con- 
fusion to run to his van, rifle all the pocket- 
books, and secrete the money on his own 
person. Then, as Asoka burst in with the 
same intention, he bade him throw away the 
empty purses in some distant place, and him- 
self returned to the exhibition tent with more 
lights, demanding, with the appearance of 
the utmost innocence, the cause of this dis- 
turbance. Order had already been partially 
restored, and the peasant was loudly exclaim- 
ing, The thief, — it is this dog. I found his 
nose in my pocket.” 

Signor Stromboli laughed derisively. 

What would the dog want with your 
money?” he asked. “Nevertheless, if you 
suspect him, search him.” 

“ It is not the dog, but the dog’s master, 
whom I shall search,” said the gendarme. 

bieit! Who brought the dog here? 
It is not my dog; I have never seen him 
before.” 

The officer of the law led Zulu out into 
the open air. A crowd had collected, and 
Adrienne had wriggled her thin body with 
the agility of an eel under baskets and be- 
tween legs to the very front. 

“Whose dog is this?” asked the gen- 


lOO 


Pierre and His Poodle 


darme. “ Does any one remember having 
seen him before? ” 

“ Why, that is Zulu,” piped Adrienne ; “ he 
belongs to the dog-trainer of the Varietes 
Amusantes.” 

Asoka had returned from hiding the pocket- 
books in the wood, and stood panting on the 
outskirts of the crowd ; but he took the hint 
at once, and was off like a shot. He wound 
the pocket-books in his turban, and making 
straight through the wood to the dog-trainer’s 
van, threw them in at his little window just 
as the gendarme, followed by the crowd, 
presented himself at the door of the theatre 
where Zizi’s father in his clown’s dress was 
announcing the wonderful performance of 
trained dogs to take place that evening. On 
perceiving the approach of the procession, 
headed by the gendarme and Zulu, his only 
thought was that the lost dog had been found, 
and that they were bringing him back in 
triumph to restore him to his owner. He 
positively identified the animal as belonging 
to Nagy Pal, and brought forward his partner, 
not in the least suspecting that he was hand- 
ing him over to arrest. It was in vain that 
Nagy Pal protested his innocence; the gen- 
darme instituted a search, and the rifled 


The Evil Eye 


lOI 


pocket-books were regarded as proof positive 
of his complicity. The dog-trainer was led 
away to prison, his van was placed under the 
seal of the law and driven into the courtyard 
of the prison, and not only the culprit Zulu, 
but also the entire troupe of performing dogs 
were detained as prisoners. Zizi’s father, the 
proprietor of the Varietes Amusantes, was 
also arrested, but was released the next morn- 
ing at the preliminary examination. Only 
Zizi and Minka, the latter begging in vain to 
be imprisoned with her father, were allowed to 
return that night to the Varietes Amusantes. 

The affair created immense excitement and 
not a little indignation in the encampment. 
The “ artistes ” were jealous of their reputa- 
tion for honesty, and all asserted their belief 
in the innocence of their confrhey — all but 
the prestidigitateur, who confided to Made- 
moiselle Tourbillon, as he handed her Popotte, 
that he considered that the dog-trainer had 
been justly punished for a plot to work his 
ruin, as he had purchased the dogs from 
Nagy Pal, not knowing that one of them had 
been trained as a thief to carry back stolen 
articles to his master. 

The serpent-charmer half-closed her eyes, 
and regarded the prestidigitateur through the 


102 


Pierre and His Poodle 


slits with a peculiar expression. “You will 
doubtless remain to the trial, and testify 
against him,” she said. 

“ No,” replied Signor Stromboli, “ it is well 
to keep well out of such complications.” 

Mademoiselle Tourbillon continued to look 
at him in her sleepily amused way. “ Such 
trials do not interest you? Well, this one 
interests me immensely, and, mon ami, I think 
we shall both attend it.” 

Signor Stromboli was a trifle taken aback. 
What did she mean? Possibly she had seen 
enough of his manoeuvring with the two 
dogs to guess that he, and not the dog- 
trainer, had reaped the benefit of Zulu’s 
thefts. Was she trying to settle this question 
from his reply to this invitation to attend the 
trial ; or, knowing his unwillingness to expose 
himself to danger, was she gauging her influ- 
ence over him by his answer? It was charac- 
teristic of the man that, judging others by 
himself, he did not believe she would think 
any the worse of him if she knew that he 
was a successful rogue. In his opinion, too, 
every one had his price. Mademoiselle knew 
enough to be dangerous as art enemy ; she 
must therefore be bought over at once, and 
become his accomplice. 


The Evil Eye 103 

He looked at the serpent-charmer with 
what he fancied was a fascinating smile, but 
which seemed to her a most disgusting leer, 
and assured her that he had long been her 
devoted lover. 

Accept me, beloved one,” he concluded, 
“ and this shall be my betrothal present.” 
He placed in her hand the morocco case, and 
Mademoiselle Tourbillon opened it and saw 
the magnificent St. Angel rubies. Signor 
Stromboli lifted the necklace and attempted 
to fasten it about her throat, but the girl 
repulsed him violently. She loved trinkets, 
and she realised that these superb stones were 
no cheap imitation gems ; but she was honest 
at heart ; neither her love nor her complicity 
was purchasable, and the dislike which she 
had always felt for the prestidigitateur deep- 
ened into a deadly loathing. 

“ Take back your present,” she said ; “ the 
receiver is as bad as the thief. I have no 
mind to make myself liable to arrest by 
keeping them for you.” 

Signor Stromboli was not in the least in- 
sulted, but answered gaily that she could now 
understand why he had too much confidence 
in his own good judgment and in Made- 
moiselle’s good taste to believe that they would 


104 Pierre and His Poodle 

either of them attend the trial. The serpent- 
charmer’s eyes opened wide and flashed fire. 
“ My good taste shall not be questioned in 
future,” she said, — “ at least in the matter of 
the choice of my friends,” and she banged the 
door of her van smartly in his face. 

The prestidigitateur chuckled to himself, 
“ She is magnificent when she is angry, and 
she will come around in good time. I made 
a good round sum out of that dog’s opera- 
tions. A pity that he was discovered and 
taken from me, — I could so easily play the 
same game at all the different fetes and fairs 
that we visit.” 

Every one hurried through their dinners 
that evening to be ready for the night’s per- 
formances ; for the Fete des Loges was always 
best attended on the closing night, and all of 
the mountebanks had full houses with the 
exception of Signor Stromboli and the Va- 
rietes Amusantes. The story of the lost 
pocket-books had travelled fast, and lost 
nothing in its travelling. In spite of the fact 
that the prestidigitateur had not been ar- 
rested, people dared not venture into what 
they called the “pickpockets’ den.” 

The dompteur profited by his companions’ 
misfortunes, and his own arena was full to 


The Evil Eye 105 

overflowing. He closed, however, at the 
usual hour, for his beasts were weary and im- 
patient, and the lioness was in especially bad 
humour. She had refused to leap through 
the blazing hoops in the act with fireworks, 
and had slunk off to her cage growling omi- 
nously. The dompteur had thought best not 
to coerce her, or to excite any of the beasts 
further, and had refused the demand of the 
crowd about his door who desired an extra 
performance. The crowd, disappointed in 
this direction, poured into the tent of the 
serpent-charmer. 

The dompteur himself, on seeing that all 
was right for the night, took his daughters to 
see Mademoiselle Tourbillon give her famous 
tableau of the Medusa’s Head. Adrienne 
had told Pierre of the strange reappearance 
of Zulu, and of the trouble which had fallen 
upon the gypsies, and as soon as his work 
was over he hurried to the Varietes Amu- 
santes. The little theatre was closed for the 
first time in many a long series of last nights 
at fetes. There was no clown joyously beat- 
ing his drum and reciting stale jokes from the 
little platform ; no smiling Zizi at the receipt 
of custom; no yelping of dogs behind the 
scenes. He walked around to the rear of 


io6 Pierre and His Poodle 

the exhibition tent. Nagy Pal’s roulette was 
gone, but there was a sound of subdued weep- 
ing in Zizi’s, and he knocked timidly. Minka 
came to the door. Her eyes were very red 
and her hair was disordered. “What! is it 
you? ’’she asked. “Has nothing happened 
to you? Are you quite well? ” 

“ Quite well, dear Minka, and I have come 
to see if there is anything I can do for you.” 

“ Only to go away and never let me see 
you again. The evil eye has lighted upon 
my father, and you have escaped. But the 
night is not over yet. Beware ! Beware of 
the evil eye.” 

“ Don’t mind her,” said Zizi ; “ she is quite 
wild with grief. Try to calm yourself, Minka, 
and sleep. Our fathers may be liberated to- 
morrow. Those who have done no wrong 
need have no fear of justice.” 

Pierre went away reluctantly, seeing that 
his presence only served to excite Minka. 
As he strolled idly along, he heard a quick 
step behind him, and a wiry little claw seized 
his arm. It was Adrienne. Her eyes were 
wild with excitement, and she was so eager 
that she could scarcely speak. 

“ Go, quick ! ” she gasped ; “ here is my 
ticket! I did not give it up as I went in. 


The Evil Eye 


107 


There is a white poodle there ; perhaps it is 
the one you are seeking. Go ! make haste ! 
They are about to feed her to the great ser- 
pent. You may already be too late.” 

Pierre darted forward and rushed into 
the tent. A white poodle stood on the plat- 
form. Its hair had been carefully dressed for 
the sacrifice, and the forelock was tied with a 
tiny blue ribbon. Mademoiselle Tourbillon 
had just placed it before the great boa, and it 
now raised itself on its haunches in the be- 
seeching attitude which Popotte always took 
at the command, “ Fais le beau.” 

It was fascinated by the serpent, which was 
watching it, and slowly erecting itself and dis- 
tending its terrible jaws, preparatory to dart- 
ing upon the little creature. The poodle 
quivered in every limb, and there were smoth- 
ered exclamations in the audience : “ Mais 
non, c’est une chienne de race. C’est une 
infamie de la massacrer comme 9a.” (But, 
no ; it is a dog of fine pedigree. It is an 
infamy to cause its massacre in this way.) 

A great indignation swelled in Pierre’s 
heart. For Popotte’s sake no dog should be 
murdered in this cold-blooded way ; and he 
pushed his way to the front, whistling to at- 
tract the attention of the dog. With a con- 


io8 Pierre and His Poodle 

vulsive effort it turned its eyes from the 
serpent, and Pierre saw that it was really 
Popotte. He knew his danger now, but that 
recognition nerved him to a tremendous leap. 
He cleared three benches, and, stooping, 
snatched Popotte from the very jaws of the 
boa-constrictor. The reptile missed its aim, 
but its terrible hooked teeth fastened them- 
selves upon Pierre’s arm, and, with a mighty 
contortion of its huge body, it flung itself 
around Pierre, pinioning his arms to his sides 
in the first coil, and straining itself into knots 
as it attempted another twist of the deadly 
lasso. But Mademoiselle Tourbillon, with 
admirable bravery and presence of mind, 
caught the creature’s neck with both hands. 
The reptile tightened itself to its utmost. 
Pierre felt the blood rush from his heart to 
his brain and the breath leave his lungs. As 
he sank to the floor he heard the serpent- 
charmer’s despairing cry. The boa had 
writhed itself from her grasp, and one wrist 
fell dislocated at her side. He was suffocat- 
ing under the constriction of that loathsome 
embrace. Its fetid breath was in his face, 
and — was that malignant thing the evil eye? 
Then he knew no more. He did not see the 
dompteur, the only man in that audience who 


The Evil Eye 109 

' was not paralysed with fear, striding his pros- 
trate body, with one heel firmly planted on 
the boa’s neck and both strong arms grap- 
pling and straining at the coil which was 
crushing out Pierre’s life. The dompteur was 
a man of enormous strength as well as brav- 
ery, and the serpent’s grasp relaxed in his 
strong grip. He wrenched its body from the 
boy, but even then its hooked, inturned teeth 
remained fixed in Pierre’s sleeve. Fortu- 
nately they had not penetrated his arm. 
Mademoiselle tore away the cloth, and the 
dompteur thrust the boa into its iron cage 
with no gentle hand. Then he came back 
and lifted Pierre tenderly, feeling him with 
the firm but velvet touch of an experienced 
surgeon, and frowning so angrily when he 
discovered that a rib was broken that many 
in the audience felt that the boy must be 
his son. It was not till Mademoiselle had 
brought water, and Pierre was restored to con- 
sciousness, that the dompteur turned gallantly 
and examined her own wounded wrist. “ It 
is nothing,” she said, though even his deli- 
cate touch thrilled her with pain. 

They felt themselves before an audience. 
The instinct of the actor triumphed over 
every other feeling, and they bowed with 




Thz UON-TAMEQ Pl^QDt 



The Evil Eye 


III 


such grace and aplomb as the dompteur an- 
nounced smilingly, “ Grand finale, Tableau de 
Laocoon et le Python,” that the electrified 
audience, not certain but that, after all, it was 
only a little play acted for their benefit, burst 
into thunderous applause as the crippled 
brother pulled the curtain. 

A physician, who happened to be one of 
the spectators, made his way behind the 
scenes, and treated both injuries. “ Fortu- 
nately,” he said, “ they are not serious this 
time; but I would advise you. Mademoi- 
selle, to have that serpent killed, or to other- 
wise dispose of it. I have a friend. Professor 
Saumur, a naturalist, who is a collector for 
the Jardin d’Acclimatation. He would doubt- 
less buy him from you, or, if you preferred, 
could stuff him for you, for he is an expert 
taxidermist. Mounted nicely, he would be 
almost as much of a show as if he were alive ; 
and surely one experience of this kind is 
enough.” 

Mademoiselle rejected the proposition with 
scorn, which was hardly polite of her, since 
the physician had made no charge for his 
services. 

Pierre looked about him in a dazed way. 
It hurt him to take a deep breath, and he 


I 12 


Pierre and His Poodle 


could scarcely think. But when the dompteur 
said, “ Come, my boy, you have proved 
yourself a hero through and through, but 
don’t peril your life again for so slight a 
cause,” Pierre cried out : “Mais it was 
not a slight thing ; and where is she ? Where 
is my Popotte? ” 

No one knew. She had vanished as com- 
pletely as if the serpent had indeed swallowed 
her. They searched for her under the cages 
and benches in the auditorium, and up and 
down the avenue and among the vans, but 
Popotte was nowhere to be found. 



Chapter 6 



^RCAJCINO CAMP ' 

r 


At an early hour the next morning the little 
community broke up its encampment. Pierre 
was awakened by the clatter of the planks as 
they were loaded upon the waggons, and 
drank the coffee which Adrienne brought 
him in the open air, for the little tent which 
had served as dining-room was already struck 
and packed. Already many vans were on 
the march. The dompteur had the largest 
number of assistants of any of the showmen, 
but he had such a train of carts and cages, 
8 



1 14 Pierre and His Poodle 

and so many horses to harness, that he was 
the very last to get his caravan in order and 
sweep in imposing procession down the high- 
road that led away toward the West of France, 
for he was going next to a Breton Pardon, 
the Pilgrimage festival of Saint Anne d’Auray. 

Early as it was when Pierre finished his 
coffee, he noticed that the prestidigitateur 
had already gone. With the help of Asoka 
he had taken down his tent during the night, 
and had stolen away before his confreres were 
awake. Mademoiselle Tourbillon, with her 
hand in a sling, was flying about trying to 
secure assistance for her crippled brother. 
She had come to count upon the friendly 
offices of Signor Stromboli, and she was in- 
dignant that he should have deserted her in 
this way. 

Pierre was feverish and giddy. He had 
passed a bad night, and the dompteur, seeing 
his condition, told him to do nothing; but 
Pierre could not see the serpent-charmer’s 
predicament without offering his services, 
and he began work, but the pain in his side 
soon forced him to stop. Mademoiselle 
found an able-bodied peasant who took his 
place, and in the intervals of directing the 
labour she chatted kindly with Pierre. 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 115 

“ I have been thinking of your dog,” she 
said, “ and I believe that Signor Stromboli 
stole her in the confusion of last evening. 
If so, we shall find her again, for he is going 
to the same fetes to which we are bound.” 

Pierre looked up gratefully and hopefully. 
“ But why should the prestidigitateur want 
Popotte so much? Will he exhibit her?” 

“No; but it was for her that the black 
poodle picked the pockets of his audience. 
I saw through his trick. The black poodle 
would not work without your Popotte. 
Signor Stromboli did not know this when 
he gave the dog to me, but he was obliged 
to borrow her, and it was for that, I am sure, 
that he stole her last night.” 

“ But the black poodle is arrested.” 

“ True, but he will be liberated after the 
trial. They will not punish him with im- 
prisonment, and without doubt Signor 
Stromboli is waiting his time to get hold of 
him again. We, too, must wait our time. I 
will make him relinquish Popotte, for he 
really gave her to me.” 

“ But how could you give her to your 
serpent? I cannot understand that of you. 
Mademoiselle, — you who seem so kind and 


ii6 Pierre and His Poodle 

‘‘No? But God made the serpent, and 
therefore it has a right to live. It is not 
constituted to eat grass like an ox. Are you 
not also wicked when you eat mutton, the 
flesh of the little lambs, or the flesh of birds? 
And you have not the excuse of my Coco, 
for you could be a vegetarian if you pleased.” 

Pierre was silenced for the moment, but he 
broke out again. “ But Popotte was my pet, 
and so intelligent.” 

“ And Coco is my pet, and he is also in- 
telligent. When that doctor advised me to 
kill him, I was very angry. I shall do noth- 
ing of the kind, in spite of his naughtiness. 
I shall keep him well fed, and not snatch 
his food from his mouth, and then he will 
not be naughty. But I will not feed him with 
your pet, and we will find her yet, never fear. 
I am going now to the Mairie, to attend the 
preliminary examination of Nagy Pal, and 
perhaps you would better go too, and stay 
with me until after the final trial, for I believe 
that Signor Stromboli has not gone far, but 
is lurking somewhere in the neighbourhood 
waiting for a chance to get Zulu.” 

“ I will stay with you,” said Pierre, grate- 
fully, “ but do not make me travel in the 
same van with your snakes.” 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 117 

“ Never fear, — that is my apartment; you 
shall sleep in the tent with my brother, and 
ride with him on our wagon d' Equipage T 

Pierre bid good-bye to the dompteur and 
his family with sincere regret. “ I shall hope 
to see you all again at the autumnal fetes 
near Paris,-’ he said. “ I shall certainly attend 
them if I have not found Popotte in the 
mean time.” 

The little girls were much grieved with 
parting from him, and drove away making 
conspicuous use of Maximiliene’s handker- 
chief, which always did duty for the three. 

Mademoiselle attended the preliminary ex- 
amination of Nagy Pal, but Pierre’s head 
ached so that he did not go inside the court- 
room, but waited for her outside, and while 
waiting managed to write a note to his 
mother. “ I must send it right away,” he 
explained to Mademoiselle’s brother, who 
saw that the effort was too much for him. 
“ She expects me home to-day, and so does 
my young master, but they will both think 
that I do right not to give up the search now 
that I have fresh traces of Popotte.” 

Pierre’s non-appearance at the chateau did 
indeed cause graver anxiety and submit him 
to darker suspicion than he realised. 


Pierre and His Poodle 


The Marquis and Ludovic had called upon 
a friend in Paris, and did not stop at the 
jeweller’s until late in the afternoon, when he 
immediately reported the loss of the necklace 
to the police. 

In response to the interrogation of the 
agent, he stated that he had entered but one 
tent, that of the prestidigitateur, and that he 
was positive that the theft must have occurred 
while the overcoat was out of his possession. 
The agent assured him that he would go im- 
mediately to St. -Germain and would report 
to the Marquis in the morning. He had 
great hopes of being able to secure both the 
thief and his booty. 

The Marquis was very grave and silent as 
he drove homeward. 

“ Do you feel so badly because you think 
it will grieve Mamma very much to lose her 
beautiful rubies?” Ludovic asked. 

“ Yes, my son ; but there is another circum- 
stance which troubles me still more.” 

“ I am glad you told the police that Pierre 
went into the tent and brought you your 
coat, for I think Pierre can help them find 
the thief.” 

“ I have no doubt that he could if he 
would, for I am sorry to say that the agent 


At Robinson Crusoe's Town 119 

thinks that Pierre may have been the thief 
or, at any rate, his accomplice.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” Ludovic cried, “ Pierre could . 
never have done such a thing. He is coming 
to us to-morrow, and if the agent has not seen 
him I am sure he will go right to him and 
help him.” 

“ If Pierre really does come home to- 
morrow,” said the Marquis, “ it will do much 
toward clearing him from suspicion so far as 
I am concerned. If he is guilty it is very un- 
likely that he will come.” 

“He will certainly come,” Ludovic as- 
serted confidently ; “ he promised, and Pierre 
always keeps his promises.” 

But when the day passed and Pierre did not 
arrive, and the next day brought an almost 
illegible scrawl stating incoherently that it 
was quite indefinite when he should return 
or where he should go, as he had new hopes 
of finding Popotte, the Marquis shook his 
head sadly, and the Marchioness remembered 
that she had surprised Pierre on the day 
before he left the chateau with the necklace 
in his hands. Ludovic burst into a torrent 
of indignant tears. He did not believe in 
the guilt of his friend, but he could not make 
his parents believe in his innocence, and he 


120 


Pierre and His Poodle 


was very wretched. Fortunately, nothing of 
this was reported to Pierre’s mother, and the 
good woman was happily unconscious that 
her son was suspected of either stealing the 
jewels or assisting the gypsies to do so. The 
detective sent by the Parisian police force 
had arrived in St.-Germain that night, and 
had learned that Nagy Pal had already been 
arrested for thefts committed during the day 
in the tent of the prestidigitateur. On learn- 
ing the circumstances, he was convinced that 
the rubies were taken by the same person 
who had organised the entire series of thefts. 
He consulted with the St.-Germain police and, 
adopting their view that Nagy Pal was the 
criminal, made no effort to secure Pierre. 
The St. Angel rubies were mentioned in the 
charges made against him at the prelimi- 
nary examination, and it could be seen that 
this particular accusation produced great 
emotion on the part of the prisoner. What ! ” 
he exclaimed, “ has some one stolen the neck- 
lace that was once the property of Maria 
Theresa, — rubies of marvellous colour and 
size set in iron-work of lace-like delicacy? ” 
Nagy Pal was told that it was indeed such 
a necklace, but that he incriminated himself 
by showing such familiarity with it. 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 121 

“Know it?” Nagy Pal replied scornfully. 
“ Every gypsy knows that necklace, but not 
a gypsy would steal it, for a gypsy never 
takes back a gift, and these rubies were the 
free gifts of gypsy hearts to their sovereign,” 

All this seemed the merest nonsense to the 
prosecution, and Nagy Pal was remanded to 
prison to await his trial several weeks later. 
Mademoiselle Tourbillon recognised the de- 
scription of the necklace as applying exactly 
to the one which Signor Stromboli had of- 
fered her, and she determined that nothing 
should hinder her from testifying against him 
at the trial of the dog-trainer. Zizi’s father 
was released, and Nagy Pal commended Minka 
to the care of his old partner. The parting 
between father and daughter seemed singu- 
larly stoical, but Mademoiselle Tourbillon 
could see that Minka was quivering with sup- 
pressed emotion which she was too proud to 
exhibit before curious spectators. As they 
left the Mairie together, Minka suddenly 
dried her eyes, and looked at Pierre sitting 
with the cripple on the wagon d' Equipage. 

“ I thought you were going back to your 
friends at the chateau,” she said. “ Why are 
you here? Are you ill? How white you 
are ! ” 


122 


Pierre and His Poodle 


Pierre had a very narrow escape last 
night,” Mademoiselle Tourbillon said ; and she 
related the adventure of the evening. 

Minka’s expression changed to one of deep 
pity, almost, one might have thought, of self- 
reproach. 

“ And so,” said Pierre, kindly, “ you have 
your will, Minka, after all, for I am going to 
stay with Mademoiselle, and we shall meet 
at a good many more fetes.” 

“And are you sick?” Minka asked anx- 
iously. 

“ No,” replied Mademoiselle Tourbillon. 
“ The doctor said there was nothing serious 
the matter with him.” 

Pierre tried bravely to smile, but a look of 
pain settled on his white face. 

“You feel ill,” Minka said sympatheti- 
cally. 

“Yes; I am too weak to walk to the 
chateau, even if I had not decided, now 
that I have seen Popotte, to stay and try to 
find her. Come and see me sometimes, and 
we can be sorry for each other.” 

“Where are you going?” Minka asked of 
Mademoiselle. “To Robinson? And the 
Varietes are going to the Fetes of St. Cloud. 
We shall not be very far apart. Yes, I shall 


At Robinson Crusoe's Town 123 

come to see you ; ’’ and she waved Pierre a kind 
good-bye as she climbed to Zizi’s side on the 
roulette, and took the reins, which the older 
girl gave her unhesitatingly, for Minka was 
an accomplished whip and could have driven 
a four-in-hand creditably. It was part of her 
ambition to be a circus-rider as well as a 
gymnast, and some day to own a white horse 
of her own. To-day she drove off with more 
than her usual dan; but she drew rein at a 
little distance and waited until Mademoi- 
selle Tourbillon’s wagon d' equipage overtook 
her. 

“ Don’t look so grumpy,” she called to 
Pierre; “if the doctor said nothing was the 
matter with you, of course nothing is the 
matter. The trouble is all in your imagina- 
tion ; besides, you might be a great deal 
worse off, you know, and I am very glad you 
are going to stay with the company ; so 
cheer up, and the next time don’t let Coco 
hug you so hard ; ” and with a parting flick of 
her whip, which nearly lifted Pierre’s bdet 
from his head, she drove gaily away. 

“ Tiensi' said the cripple, who sat beside 
Pierre ; “ there is a girl who has no heart. 
She has just left her father in prison, and she 
sits as straight and cracks jokes as gaily as if 


124 


Pierre and His Poodle 


she were riding in a triumphal chariot with 
captives tied to her wheels.” 

“ Why do we not go to St. Cloud with her? 
Is there a fete also at Robinson ? ” Pierre 
asked. 

“ It is always jour de fete at Robinson,” the 
cripple replied. “ It is a very curious village, 
in a very lovely landscape, where artists go 
for sketching and the petite bourgeoisie to 
amuse themselves. It is a village of guin- 
gettes (restaurants), cheap shows, and booths 
with foolish articles for sale, — great trumpets 
and Jack-in-the-boxes, and all sorts of things 
pour faire rire. But what makes it different 
from an ordinary fair is that it is built on the 
side of a mountain from which there is a 
superb view, and in the tops of an old grove 
of horse-chestnuts and oaks.” 

“ You mean in the shade of the grove, do 
you not?” Pierre asked. 

“ No,” replied the cripple; “ the peculiarity 
of this village is that it is built in the trees. 
Long ago some enterprising restaurateur built 
a summer-house on one of the largest trees, 
with a staircase leading to it, and called it the 
House of Robinson Crusoe. It had a great 
vogue, and then, as he had no patent on his 
idea, other keepers of restaurants invaded the 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 125 

region, and the trees are as full of houses now 
as a pine grove is of crows’ nests.” 

The drive which Pierre took that day was 
one of the most beautiful in the vicinity of 
Paris. St.-Germain itself was very lovely, and 
the view of Paris from the great terrace one of 
the finest which can be obtained ; but the 
route which the snake-charmer and her 
company followed was varied, and from 
many a hill-top they had panoramas rival- 
ling that from Le Notre’s terrace. They 
clattered through the streets of Versailles, 
and Pierre had a glimpse of the park of Le 
Petit Trianon, with its pretty toy village, in 
which Marie Antoinette played at peasant 
life ; but he had no idea of the great histori- 
cal drama acted there, and he stared stupidly 
at the walls of the palace, with no conception 
of the miles of paintings which it contained. 
They skirted the forest of Mendon, and about 
noon drove into Robinson. Pierre found the 
village even more curious than he had an- 
ticipated. A painted statue of Robinson 
Crusoe greeted them on their entrance, and 
Pierre crossed himself and doffed his hat as 
they passed, thinking that this must be some 
saint. The houses in the trees were most ingen- 
iously constructed. Some of them were three 


126 Pierre and His Poodle 

stories in height. The kitchens were at the 
foot, and the food was pulled up in a basket. 

Mademoiselle Tourbillon did not rent a 
tree, but paid’ for permission to camp near 
one of the most popular. Pierre made him- 
self as useful as he could, and fed and cared 
for the serpents ; even going into Coco’s 
cage to get the lamp, and so far overcoming 
his repugnance that he could handle the 
smaller snakes. He did not care for them as 
pets, as Mademoiselle did ; but all animals 
interested him, and Ludovic had read him 
portions from a book by Jules Verne which 
had fired his mind with visions of adventure 
in tropical forests. He recovered rapidly, 
and as there were many horses and donkeys 
for rent for the use of tourists who wished to 
ascend the hill for the sake of the view. Ma- 
demoiselle asked him if he would like to be 
a donkey-driver while at Robinson ; and 
Pierre was greatly delighted when a pretty 
mouse-coloured donkey was put in his charge. 
It was so tiny that it could carry only children ; 
but it had such a pretty red velvet saddle, 
and so many scarlet tassels and merry jing- 
ling bells, and was withal such a picturesque 
little creature, that children were invariably 
attracted by it. Pierre found that walking, or 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 127 

even running, gave his broken rib no uneasi- 
ness. It had been set by means of plasters, 
and he had been cautioned only against using 
his left arm. The proprietor of the donkey 
rented it at rather a large sum ; but for this 
he agreed to feed it and give it stabling, and 
all that Pierre could gain beyond this charge 
would be his own. He found that he could 
take a sufficient number of trips during the 
day to make a large profit ; the only question 
was that of obtaining patronage. He took 
his stand at first in front of the serpent- 
charmer’s tent; but he soon found that this 
was too far up the mountain, and that every 
one had engaged a donkey before reaching 
this point. He next stationed himself among 
a horde of other donkey-drivers at the exit of 
the railroad station ; but his shrewd sense soon 
told him that this was an equally undesirable 
location. He had too much competition here ; 
the other drivers were more blatant and hust- 
ling, the great donkeys jostled his little one 
aside, and he had no chance whatever. But 
Pierre was not discouraged. He noticed that 
many parties pushed their way through the 
importunate throng, declining even to look at 
the animals, scornfully confident in their own 
pedestrian powers. When about one third 


128 Pierre and His Poodle 

of the way up the mountain, these inde- 
pendent individuals usually began to pant 
and gasp, and regret that they had not bar- 
‘ gained with the drivers. Pierre followed what 
seemed to him a promising family of several 
children, keeping at a discreet distance until 
the younger children began to cry to be 
carried, and the fat mother sat down discon- 
solately beside the road. Then he whipped 
up his donkey and passed them, whistling 
cheerfully and nonchalantly. The father, who 
stood wiping the perspiration from his brow, 
the picture of discomfort and perplexity, 
called to him and offered him a larger sum 
than Pierre would have charged at the rail- 
road station, to carry the children by turns 
the remaining distance. Pierre noticed the 
spot where the bargain was struck, named it 
the “ Station of Lucky Weariness,” and there- 
after took his stand at this point. 

While Pierre and the serpent-charmer re- 
mained at Robinson, Mademoiselle Tourbil- 
lon’s profits were moderate, but they would 
have been still more meagre had not Pierre 
acted as a drummer in praising the wonder- 
ful exploits of the serpent charmer to each 
of his patrons. 

As several days passed and Minka did not 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 129 

appear, Pierre decided to take a morning off 
and jaunt over to St. Cloud on his donkey 
and look her up. He passed by the foot of 
the artificial cascade where, when the grandes 
eaiLx play, the waters come dancing down the 
great terraces between the brilliant parterres 
of the royal garden. The Prussians destroyed 
the palace, but the exquisite hillside park, 
with its expanses of velvet greensward, its 
glistening statues and crystal fountains, is as 
carefully kept as in the days of Napoleon, 
and is open to the poorest tramp, a precious 
possession of the people. Pierre had thought 
that no garden could be lovelier or more 
stately than that of the St. Angels, and he 
paused at the foot of the water staircase 
riveted by admiration and surprise. He was 
awakened from his revery by the cry “ La 
bruyere, la bruyere, ce n’est pas ch^re,” and a 
fagot of blossoming heather was thrust into 
his face. He had recognised the voice before 
the flowers struck him. It was Minka, who 
stood before him smiling, with her arms full 
of purple blossoms. He was off the donkey 
in an instant, and had helped her to the 
saddle. 

“ No, not that way,” she said, looking 
around anxiously, as he turned the animal’s 
9 


ijo Pierre and His Poodle 

head in the direction of the cluster of booths 
farther down the avenue, where the music of 
the merry-go-rounds proclaimed the presence 
of the fete. “ Let us go up the hill, — not 
through the gardens, but up this path through 
the forest, where we will not be observed.” 

“ But why not observed? ” Pierre asked. 

“ Because I am tired of being spied upon,” 
Minka replied. “ I have been watched and 
followed ever since we came to St. Cloud. 
There is a photographer who is always pok- 
ing his head under his black cloth and watch- 
ing me through his camera whenever I set 
foot outside of the Varietes Amusantes. I 
do not like it, and I told him so once. I said, 

‘ TienSy my friend ; you have photographed 
me now five times, and I am not so beau- 
tiful or so famous that I can understand why 
you wish to do so. I desire that you look in 
another direction.’ ‘ A cat may look on a 
king,’ he replied, ‘ and amiability is as attrac- 
tive as beauty. It is your sweet expression. 
Mademoiselle, which fascinates me.’ Whereat 
I made a worse face at him and ran away. I 
can only escape him by climbing to the top 
of the hill to gather heather. It is too steep 
for him to follow me, loaded down by his kit, 
through the brushwood ; but when I come out 


At Robinson Crusoe's Town 13 1 

on the open, where the heather grows, I can see 
him down on the Place, watching me through 
a little telescope. We will keep in the shelter 
of the forest and he will not see us.” 

“ He is very impertinent,” said Pierre ; 
“ but I will protect you. I wish you would 
go past his shop with me, and if he stares at 
you I will send him about his business.” 

“ He has no shop. He stays at the Pavilion 
Bleu, which is very high-priced, and he does 
not take photographs for money, but appar- 
ently only for his own amusement. He is 
very inquisitive, and he comes and talks to 
Zizi, who is a great gossip, and asks ques- 
tions about all the artists. He asked about 
you, and where you were now; but fortu- 
nately Zizi did not know, and I held my 
tongue, for I do not think he means you any 
good. I saw him at a little curiosity shop 
the other day, where they sell articles which 
have been put in pawn, and I heard him say 
to the merchant as he left him at the door, 
‘ If the necklace appears, let me know imme- 
diately, for it is demanded by the law.’ Now, 
what could he mean by that? ” 

“ Perhaps he is the friend of a thief who is 
afraid that his accomplice will pawn some 
stolen jewels.” 


9 


132 


Pierre and His Poodle 


“No, I do not think he is a criminal, for 
then he would slink about and avoid being 
seen. On the contrary, he seems to me to be 
on the track of some one. If it were only the 
prestidigitateur ! He asked about him, too, 
but none of us know where he has gone. 
Have you seen him at Robinson? Have you 
found your dog? ” 

Pierre shook his head sadly. “ Why have 
you not been over to see us?” he asked. 
“You promised that you would come.” 

“ I have told you, because this photogra- 
pher follows me and I was afraid he would 
find you.” 

“ But I have done nothing wrong. I am 
not afraid of him.” 

“ My father had done nothing wrong and 
he is in prison.” 

“ But he will be cleared at the trial. Ma- 
demoiselle Tourbillon has important testimony 
to render, and we are going there together.” 

“That is very good of her. I will come 
over to Robinson and go with you.” 

“ Will not Zizi and her father go? ” 

“ No. Something which this man has said 
has made them afraid, and they have decided 
to leave St. Cloud quietly and go to Chan- 
tilly. The town is always en fete during the 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 133 

races. How I would like to see the horses ! 
If my father is liberated, perhaps we will 
all go.” She looked at Pierre with a ques- 
tioning, half-dissatisfied expression. “You 
are feeling better. Is it not so? You are 
well.” 

“Yes,” said Pierre, “I am quite strong 
again.” 

“ And you wish to leave us, I presume.” 

“ Not until I find Popotte.” 

Toujoiirs Popotte. You care more for that 
miserable little cur than you do for me.” 

“ It is not so much the dog as it is that it 
is my duty to find her, and I care for that.” 

“ Duty? Duty? What is that? ” 

“ Why, don’t you know, it is what we must 
do, whether we like it or not, because we 
know that we could never hold up our heads 
and look straight in the eyes of those who 
love us if we did not.” 

“ Then it is my duty to go to my father’s 
’trial instead of running away to Chantilly to 
see the races.” 

“Yes,” Pierre replied joyfully; “I knew 
you would know what your duty was and 
would do it too. I will ask Mademoiselle to 
let you stay with her, and I will come on Sat- 
urday and fetch you with this donkey. Good- 


134 Pierre and His Poodle 

bye, now, for I must get back to Robinson 
before it is dark.” 

Mademoiselle was willing. Par exemple^' 
she said, with a shrug of her shoulders, “ am 
I an asylum for enfa7its troiivh. However, 
she is welcome to share my bed and my crust. 
It will not be for long.” 

Pierre brought Minka to Robinson several 
days before they left, and the girl made her- 
self very useful, insisting upon taking upon 
herself all the household duties, and playing 
the violin during Mademoiselle’s perform- 
ances. 

On the day before the trial at St.-Germain 
a photographer arrived at Robinson and went 
directly to the serpent-charmer’s exhibition. 
Mademoiselle was giving her tableau of the 
Medusa’s Head. In this spectacle she had 
made use of a table with mirrors beneath it, 
so that her head seemed to be severed from 
her body and to rest on the table. A crim- 
son scarf thrown across the throat and chest 
contrasted with the ghastliness of the up- 
turned face, and disguised the upper part of 
the body. Mademoiselle really sat on a chair 
behind the table, but the mirrors hid the 
chair, and gave the spectator the impression 
that there was nothing beneath or behind the 


At Robinson Crusoe's Town 135 

table. What rendered the sight peculiarly 
horrible was the fact that the serpent-charmer 
had wound among her disordered locks a 
fillet to which were bound a dozen small ser- 
pents. Their poison sacs had been carefully 
removed, but they writhed and erected them- 
selves, and struck at one another and against 
Mademoiselle’s temples in their efforts to free 
themselves from the fillet, in such a malig- 
nant fashion that the sight rarely failed to 
sicken the stoutest heart. 

The photographer took several views dur- 
ing the seance. It was no wonder that he 
was fascinated by the subject, for the tableau 
had been suggested to Mademoiselle, as we 
have said, by Leonardo da Vinci’s Medusa, 
and there was a smile worthy of Da Vinci on 
her apparently dead lips. 

The photographer complimented her at the 
close of the performance, and begged for 
another special sitting, which the serpent- 
charmer good-naturedly accorded, although 
Minka, who was watching from behind the 
scenes, made vigorous signs of disapproval. 

“ I will send you some of the photographs 
when they are finished,” he promised, ‘‘ and 
you can sell them to your admirers. To 
what address shall I mail them?” 


136 Pierre and His Poodle 

“We leave here late to-night to go to 
St.-Germain,” said Mademoiselle, “ and may 
remain there several days.” 

“ Indeed ! And may I ask what takes you 
to St.-Germain, since the fete has been over 
for some time? ” 

“ We are much interested in the trial of a 
friend of ours, Nagy Pal, the dog-trainer, and 
we are going to attend it.” 

It appeared that the photographer had 
read of the circumstances in the papers and 
was also interested. He asked a great many 
questions, all of which Mademoiselle answered 
very freely. , Pierre came in while they were 
talking together, and the man looked at him 
keenly and asked, “ Are you not Pierre, the 
son of the Marquis de St. Angel’s game- 
keeper? ” 

“Yes, Monsieur,” Pierre replied, smiling; 
“but how did you know me? I do not re- 
member ever seeing you before.” 

“ No ; but I have heard the Marquis 
speak of you. By the way, his little son 
was much disappointed that you did not re- 
turn to the chateau when you promised to 
do so.” 

“ I wrote that I hoped to find Popotte.” 

“ And have you found her? ” 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 137 

“ No ; and we shall not until we find Signor 
Stromboli.” 

“ That is the prestidigitateur, whom Made- 
moiselle here thinks is responsible for all tbe 
thefts the last day of the fete of St-Germain.” 

“ I do not thinky I know that he is,” Made- 
moiselle replied. 

“ Well, be sure to be at the trial to-morrow ; 
your testimony may clear the dog-trainer. 
And are you going too, Pierre? ” 

“Oh, yes, sir; for I am sure Nagy Pal is 
innocent ! If you can do anything for him, 
please do. I would do anything in my power 
to help him.” 

“You may be able to do more than you 
think, my boy ; do not fail to be there. It is 
very possible that the Marquis de St. Angel 
may attend it in person, as he is of course very 
eager to recover the ruby necklace and to pun- 
ish the thief.” The photographer watched 
Pierre’s face very closely as he said this, but 
the boy’s face showed only unfeigned surprise. 

“ Has the necklace of the Marquise been 
stolen?” he asked. “When did that hap- 
pen? ” 

“ The last day of the fete ; but the Mar- 
quis is very certain who took it, and will bring 
the offender to justice.” 


138 Pierre and His Poodle 

“ Oh ! I hope so,” Pierre exclaimed. It 
must have been that wicked prestidigitateur.” 

“ It was he,” Mademoiselle asserted confi- 
dently. “ I saw it in his hands.” 

“ Come, this is certainly to the point. Be 
at the Mairie without fail at ten o’clock.” 

“We will not fail, sir.” 

The photographer walked away rapidly in 
the direction of the station. “That boy is 
perfectly innocent,” he said to himself “I 
stake my reputation as a detective on that 
fact. The probability is that Nagy Pal is 
innocent also, and that this Signor Stromboli, 
whom they all accuse, is the real rogue ; but 
how can we trap him? ” 

Minka ran forward as soon as the photog- 
rapher had gone. “ Why did you talk to 
him?” she asked; “that is the man who 
watched me at St. Cloud.” 

“ I thought so,” said Pierre. 

“ But he is a detective.” 

“Then it is our business to help him de- 
tect the real criminal,” said Mademoiselle. 

“ I hate the police,” Minka replied ; “ they 
are stupid, and always arrest the wrong 
people. Now, how did he find us, I won- 
der?” 

It had not been a difficult task. The pre- 


At Robinson Crusoe’s Town 139 

tended photographer had missed Minka soon 
after she left St. Cloud, and had asked Zizi 
what had become of her. Zizi, who was 
deadly afraid of the man and thought that 
his absence would give herself and father a 
good opportunity to break camp and steal 
away to Chantilly, did not scruple to give 
him correct information and to put him 
on the track of the serpent-charmer and 
Pierre. 

As soon as the day’s business was over 
Mademoiselle Tourbillon began to prepare 
for moving. One of the servants of the 
restaurant was helping transfer the cages and 
boxes to the van, and the children were not 
needed for the moment. Minka had run up 
the narrow winding staircase that encircled 
the trunk of the tree, and stood in the top 
pavilion, enjoying the beautiful sunset. Pierre 
stood at the foot of the tree. They had been 
chatting gleefully when Minka suddenly ut- 
tered a shriek of terror. 

Coco, who had escaped from his cage, had 
climbed into the tree and was dangling from 
one of the branches directly over the little 
staircase. The child was nearly frantic with 
fright, and dared not pass under the serpent 
to reach the staircase. 


140 Pierre and His Poodle 

“ Don’t be afraid Pierre cried ; “ I will call 
Mademoiselle Tourbillon and she will coax 
Coco away.” 

“ No, no, do not go,” Minka screamed, 
“ I will jump ; ” and suiting the action to the 
word, she sprang straight into Pierre’s arms. 
The distance was over twenty feet, and, accom- 
plished acrobat as she was, this was a little 
thing for Minka; but Pierre felt a sudden 
pang of anguish, and knew that the rib, which 
had slowly knit, had snapped again. He 
uttered no cry; but led Minka to Made- 
moiselle Tourbillon, and assisted in securing 
Coco, and in the breaking up of their encamp- 
ment, mounting to his seat beside the cripple 
on the jolting wagon d' Equipage for their 
night ride to St.-Germain, for this was neces- 
sary in order to reach the town in time for 
the trial on the morrow. 

Mademoiselle Tourbillon had much upon 
her mind, and did not notice Pierre’s pale face. 
He knew there was no physician in Robinson, 
and was determined not to trouble her with 
his new accident until after the trial, as he 
felt sure that she would insist on having med- 
ical advice and that this would delay their 
journey. He suffered much during the night, 
and as they reached the edge of the forest of 



142 


Pierre and His Poodle 


St.-Germain, each breath which he drew was 
agony. At last a smothered groan was forced 
from his compressed lips, and the cripple saw 
by the early light that he was suffering in- 
tensely. He halted at once, and called his 
sister, and Pierre acknowledged his condition. 
“ I cannot go any farther,” he moaned ; “ you 
must leave me here to die.” 

The tent was set up in a dingle, and Ma- 
demoiselle drove to the nearest village and 
brought back a physician, who treated Pierre, 
but insisted that he must lie perfectly quiet 
for several days or he would not answer for 
the consequences. Mademoiselle made him 
as comfortable as possible under the circum- 
stances. Minka had gone quietly about, do- 
ing little things with an expression in her 
face which was almost maternal in its anxiety. 
Pierre’s face was drawn with pain, but the 
anxious look in his eyes had nothing to do 
with himself 

“ Hurry, dear Mademoiselle, you will be 
too late for the trial.” 

“ Do not distress yourself,” she replied with 
cheerful assurance ; “ trials are always slow, 
lingering affairs. They will have hardly 
begun, and I have no doubt they will adjourn 
several times before it is over.” 


At Robinson Crusoe^s Town 143 

But Mademoiselle did not feel the confi- 
dence which she assumed for Pierre’s sake, 
and, hastily swallowing the coffee which 
Minka had prepared, she hurried her horse 
forward at its utmost speed. The van lurched 
from side to side of the road, and rattled into 
St.-Germain at such a frantic pace that the 
inhabitants hurried to the windows, the 
passers crossing the street sought safety 
in immediate flight, and she was twice com- 
manded to stop by the gendarmerie. At 
the court-room an official demanded her 
business, and she hastily explained that she 
had come to give testimony in the trial of 
the dog-trainer; that she was a neighbour 
of the accused, having pitched her tent near 
his at many fetes ; that he had always borne 
the reputation of an honest man, and that 
his dogs were irreproachable; but that the 
prestidigitateur, in whose tent the robberies 
had occurred, was a charlatan and a cheat, 
and she could prove that he had first 
stolen Zulu and had then taught him to 
steal. 

“ This is quite interesting,” said her hearer, 
“ and it is a pity that you did not arrive 
.sooner; for the trial is over, and your testi- 
mony might have made a difference in the 


144 


Pierre and His Poodle 


verdict. However, it is now too late. The 
judge has gone to dinner and the prisoner 
to prison. The prisoner and the dinner are 
alike doomed, — it is as impossible now to 
rescue the one as the other.” 



Chapter 7 



SCHEMES^ OF SIGNOB STROMBOLl 


We have lingered so long over the circum- 
stances which happened to our human char- 
acters that it is quite time that we give some 
attention to the adventures which in the 
meantime befell the real hero and heroine of 
this story, — Zulu and Popotte. What had 
happened to the latter was indeed not very 
far from Mademoiselle Tourbillon’s guess. 
When the little poodle felt herself freed from 
the fascination of the serpent, she was nearly 
frantic with terror, and the instant that Pierre 
had dropped her she had fled from the tent. 
Force of habit had led her to take refuge in 
the van of the prestidigitateur. He was clos- 
ing his door preparatory to retiring when she 
dashed up the steps and crouched trembling 

TO 


146 Pierre and His Poodle 

at his feet. Here was an unexpected bit of 
good fortune. He had regretted giving the 
dog to Mademoiselle, and it had returned to 
him. He hoped to find an opportunity, 
either by fair means or foul, to secure Zulu, 
and he had learned how necessary was 
Popotte’s inspiration to the services of the 
black poodle. He therefore petted the little 
creature and tied her in his van. He did not 
immediately retire, but sat smoking and 
thinking. Finally he called to Asoka, “ Find 
out where Nagy Pal’s dogs have been taken, 
and especially our dog.” He put out his 
light and lay down in his clothes, waiting 
Asoka’s return. The East Indian reported 
that the dogs had been given into the care 
of the jailer, who had tied them in the outer 
court of the prison. He could see them 
through the great grille, or iron gate, which 
was locked for the night. 

“ And this grille,” asked Signor Stromboli, 
“ you are a good acrobat, could you climb 
over it? ” 

“ Easily, but there is a watchman, a 
soldier in a sentry-box beside the gate.” 

“That is awkward. How about the bars 
of the grille? Are they so close together that 
Zulu could not creep through?”- 


Schemes of Signor Stromboli 147 

“Yes; but he might worm himself under 
the gate were he not tied.” 

“ I see. The prospect is not encouraging, 
but I will try all the same ; ” and fastening the 
end of a very long cord to Popotte’s collar, 
he took her under his arm and walked toward 
the prison. It was a moonlit night, and the 
sentry could see him plainly as he ap- 
proached. He had set down Popotte, and 
she was trotting by his side. He sauntered 
up to the sentry, and entered into conver- 
sation with him, at the same time giving 
Popotte the entire length of her cord. One 
of the dogs in the prison yard barked, and 
Popotte slipped under the grille and across the 
yard. Zulu recognised her, and almost burst 
his leash in the wild leap which he gave as 
he attempted to run to meet her. 

“Wow, wow!” barked Zulu, “you sweet 
thing, to come and see me I ” 

“ Wow, wow ! ” from Popotte ; “ how mean 
of you to go away from me I ” 

“ I could not help it. I am in a prison ; 
they have tied me up very short, and have 
not even given me straw to lie upon.” 

“Then why do you stay? Come away at 
once with me.” 

“ I am tied, as you see, and cannot break 


148 Pierre and His Poodle 

my leash ; ” and Zulu strained his cord to the 
utmost, but it remained firm. Popotte at- 
tempted to nibble it, but her delicate little 
teeth made no impression on the tough fibre; 
at the same time a tug at her own cord 
dragged her remorselessly across the prison 
yard. Zulu bounded after her, but fell nearly 
strangled. 

“ Wow, wow ! ” wailed Popotte, “ I will come 
again, Zulu ; now that I have found you, noth- 
ing shall separate me from you ; ” but even as 
she said this the prestidigitateur dragged her 
back under the iron gate and out into the 
street. He led her away slowly, stopping just 
around the corner when out of sight of the 
sentry, but not beyond Zulu’s hearing, to whip 
her cruelly, in the hope that her piteous cries 
might bring Zulu to her rescue. They did 
wring his faithful heart, and he replied with 
such loud and angry barks of defiance, vow- 
ing vengeance and calling for help, that all 
the other dogs of the troupe joined in the 
outcry. But he was too firmly secured to 
escape, and so carefully watched that, 
though the prestidigitateur tried many de- 
vices, he was unable to secure him. He 
remained, however, encamped in the neigh- 
bourhood, and, disguised as a peasant, at- 


Schemes of Signor Stromboli 149 

tended the trial of the dog- trainer. He stood 
near the door ready to slink out on the least 
appearance of danger to himself, and he 
watched the faces in the room with some 
apprehension. Mademoiselle Tourbillon’s 
significant threat had filled him with uneasi- 
ness, and it was with great satisfaction that 
he discovered that she was not among the 
witnesses. 

The evidence against the dog-trainer was 
chiefly circumstantial, consisting in the empty 
pocket-books which the gendarme deposed to 
having found in his van, and which were recog- 
nised and claimed by their owners, who also 
testified as to the amounts which they had 
contained. 

The dog-trainer’s protest that he could 
bring witnesses to prove that he had not left 
his own exhibition tent and van that day, did 
not aid his case, for the last man that had 
been robbed testified that he had caught 
Zulu’s nose in his pocket, and it was cor- 
rectly inferred that all the robberies had 
been effected in the same way. Nagy Pal 
protested that he had not seen Zulu for 
several days, that the dog while in his pos- 
session had always had a good character, 
that he had never taught him to steal or 


150 Pierre and His Poodle 

known him to take anything but rabbits and 
scraps of food, and that it was impossible 
that he could have developed a taste for 
pocket-books of his own accord. Black 
poodles were much alike. The dog that was 
caught in this disgraceful act might resemble 
his Zulu sufficiently to deceive every one but 
himself, but one thing was certain : if the 
dog in question was a thief, it could not be 
his dog; if his dog, it could not be a thief 
The juge de paix upon this plea ordered 
that Zulu should be brought into court, and 
the jailer appeared leading him by a leash. 
The instant that he was released the faithful 
creature bounded toward the prisoner, exhib- 
iting every doggish token of exuberant joy, 
and covering him with caresses. Even Nagy 
Pal, who would have preferred on this occa- 
sion not to be recognised, was touched by 
Zulu’s affection, and patted his head kindly, 
admitting, “Yes, this is my dog, my lost 
Zulu, but he is no thief” 

Alas for the dog-trainer ! at that instant 
Zulu sniffed at the green bag of one of the 
lawyers. Its owner was as much of a gour- 
mand as the Bishop of Champigny, who was 
said to mark the places in his breviary with 
slices of ham, and the lawyer’s luncheon 


Schemes of Signor Stromboli 15 1 

was at the bottom of the bag. Zulu’s head 
was inside it in a twinkling; but, finding that 
he could not extricate it, he returned to his 
master for help, shaking his muzzled head 
and whining beseechingly. A murmur ran 
through the audience which said that this was 
considered as proof positive that the dog had 
been trained to thieve, and to bring stolen 
objects to its master. The lawyer for the 
defence conversed in an excited aside with 
the photographer, who had made Made- 
moiselle Tourbillon and Pierre promise to 
attend the trial and who had been most 
anxiously expecting them. Even the Mar- 
quis de St. Angel was seen to leave his place 
beside the prosecuting attorney to consult 
with the group. “ I have been completely 
duped,” said the photographer detective. “ I 
might have known that the serpent-charmer 
and your gamekeeper’s son were fooling me ; 
but that boy had the face of innocence itself, 
and seemed so eager to attend the trial that 
I was completely taken in. Of course they 
have now escaped beyond our reach.” 

“ Perhaps something has hindered them, 
and they may still arrive,” said the Marquis. 

“ Has the defence nothing further to bring 
forward?” asked the judge. 


152 Pierre and His Poodle 

“ May it please your honour,” said the 
attorney, “we expected two important wit- 
nesses who have not yet arrived.” 

Again the murmur from the spectators, 
articulate now : “ No need of any further 
witnesses ; the dog has convicted himself and 
his master.” Again the detective shook his 
head angrily, and said in a low voice: “They 
will not come, they have out-tricked me. I 
give up my profession.” 

“ No, do not drop the case yet,” the Marquis 
de St. Angel whispered ; “ find the necklace 
and the boy ; bring both to me at any cost.” 

Sentence was accordingly pronounced upon 
the innocent Nagy Pal, who was sent to 
prison, and his dogs ordered to be sold, for 
the benefit of the persons who had been 
robbed, the sale being set for the following 
week. Scarcely had the court-room cleared, 
when Mademoiselle Tourbillon arrived just 
too late. The detective, who had awaited 
her so anxiously, had gone away convinced 
that both she and Pierre were accomplices of 
Nagy Pal’s who must be brought to justice 
in order to discover the lost necklace. He 
returned to St. Cloud and to Robinson, and, 
finding that both the Varietes Amusantes and 
the serpent-charmer had vanished, set him- 


Schemes of Signor Stromboli 153 

self to the task of tracing them. He con- 
cluded at once that St.-Germain would be the 
locality which they would expressly avoid, 
and that, though their business would take 
them to some one of the fetes next occurring, 
they would probably choose one remote from 
Paris. He consulted the ‘^Almanach des 
Foires et Fetes,” and his eye was caught by 
the “ Pilgrimage Pardon” at St. Anne d’Auray. 
It seemed to him that Zizi had spoken of it. 
Yes, when he had first inquired for Pierre, she 
had said that his employer, the dompteur, 
had gone there. It was very possible that 
the other mountebanks would ultimately join 
the lion-tamer at this distant point, and the 
detective at once purchased a ticket for 
Brittany. 

Finding herself too late for the trial. Ma- 
demoiselle visited Nagy Pal in his prison ; and 
he begged her to be present at the sale of his 
dogs, which was well advertised and would 
be attended by many dog-fanciers, and ascer- 
tain for him the names and addresses of the 
purchasers of the dogs, with a view to buying 
them back in the future. “ I would not mind 
the loss of the others,” he said, “ whose places 
I could readily supply; but Rigolette and 
Rigolo, whom I have trained with so much 


154 Pierre and His Poodle 

care, and whom I love as if they were my own 
children ! I would ask you to buy them now 
and take them to Minka to keep them for 
me, were it not that I have already taxed the 
friendship of my partner and Zizi to its ut- 
most in asking them to care for my child 
until I can join them.” 

Mademoiselle explained that Minka was in 
her care for the present, and promised to bring 
her to see her father; she assured him that 
she would purchase and care for Rigolette 
and Rigolo and Zulu. 

“No, not Zulu,” Nagy Pal replied bitterly; 
“ though I love him still, I never wish to see 
him again ; he has disgraced and ruined me.” 

As Mademoiselle walked back toward her 
camp, she noticed a van at a little distance 
from the road half concealed by a thicket of 
stunted willows. As she regarded it curi- 
ously, she saw the white turban of Asoka 
moving about above the low bushes. 

“ Ah ! ” she said to herself, “ it is the estab- 
lishment of our good friend the prestidigita- 
teur. Why is he waiting here ? Without doubt 
it is to attend the sale of Nagy Pal’s dogs. 
Very good ; I will wait also. The photog- 
rapher promised to send me my photo- 
graphs here ; perhaps he will send his address, 


Schemes of Signor Strom boli 155 

or will himself come to inquire why I failed 
to attend the trial. If so, I will tell him that 
Signor Stromboli is here. Oh ! I will not give 
up the fight yet; and if he buys the robber- 
dog, I shall have another link in my chain, 
and perhaps we can get a new trial for the 
dog-trainer.” 

On her arrival at her camp Mademoiselle 
found that Pierre’s condition alone would have 
necessitated a halt of several days. He was in 
a high fever, and during the time that elapsed 
before the sale of the dogs, his condition was 
very critical. 

Minka was of great assistance during this 
anxious time, not alone as nurse, a post which 
she evidently preferred, but also as maid-of- 
all-work. The girl was unwearied, always 
ready to turn her hand to whatever was 
needed, to run on errands, to take up any 
task. It was difficult to tell when she slept, 
and she began to look hollow-eyed and worn, 
though she never complained. As Pierre re- 
covered, she grew positively cheerful in spite 
of her weariness. Her wild locks were care- 
fully combed and plaited, and she employed 
odd moments while tending him in mending 
her torn clothing and in giving little feminine 
touches to her scant toilet. She brought him 


156 Pierre and His Poodle 

flowers and berries, and cooked his gruel 
with great care, lamenting that she had no 
money to buy white sugar to make it pala- 
table. She could not read, and was deeply 
mortified when Pierre asked her to read aloud 
to him from a volume of Beranger’s Songs, 
which Mademoiselle lent him. He read aloud 
to her instead ; and she took a fancy to 
Roger Bontemps, and improvised a rollicking 
air for it. 


“ His father’s hat each festal day 
Was good enough for him, 

Instead of band an ivy spray, 

A rose within the brim. 

“ Within his hut a crazy bed. 

Its covering old and thin, 

A table bare, a sweet-toned flute, 

A chest, and nought therein. 

“ His prayer to Heaven this simple lay, 
Which daily he would sing, — 

‘ Grant that my latest dying day 
Be gay as is my spring.’ ” 


Minka would decorate her own hat with 
ivy, and as her deft fingers gave the modiste’s 
touch to this economical coiffure, would sing 
gayly, — 


Schemes of Signor Stromboli 157 

“ Dii chapeau de son pere 

Coiffe dans les grands jours, 

De roses ou de lierre 
La rejouir toujours;” ' ' 

and Pierre would sing in reply, — 

“ Que votre saison derniere 
Soit encore un printemps : 

Eh, gai ! c’est la priere 

Du gros Roger Bontemps.” 

It seemed to Pierre that the girl had a 
balloon for a heart, she was always so cheer- 
ful with him. He did not see that this gayety 
was assumed to cheer him, or notice the almost 
maternal look of solicitude with which she 
watched him. He grew content with his 
captivity, and when Minka returned from her 
farewell visit to her father the day that he 
was taken to a distant prison, and the proud 
girl broke down and sobbed upon his shoul- 
der, he comforted her in his turn, saying, — 

“Cheer up, dear Minka. If you will not go 
to the Marquise, as I would like, I will stay 
with you, and help take care of you after I 
am well. I can at least earn as much as Roger 
Bontemps had, and he was happy.” 

Mademoiselle came in at that moment, and 
Pierre announced his decision to her, adding : 


158 Pierre and His Poodle 

“ Here is all the money which I earned at 
Robinson. Take it, please, Mademoiselle, 
and buy Rigolette and Rigolo at the sale. I 
can exercise dogs. It was I who taught Po- 
potte all her tricks. I will keep the dogs for 
Nagy Pal until he is out of prison again, and 
I will give half the money which I earn to 
Minka.” 

“ That is a good idea,” replied Mademoi- 
selle, “ and we will act upon it.” 

She was surprised not to see Signor Strom- 
boli at the sale. Zulu was knocked down at 
a fancy price to a breeder of blooded dogs. 
Apparently the notoriety which he had ac- 
quired as a thief had increased his value, for 
the breeder seemed determined to secure him 
at any price. Mademoiselle purchased Rigo- 
lette and Rigolo, though it took all of Pierre’s 
little hoard to effect this. The other dogs 
were scattered, and Mademoiselle found that 
their owners considered as an impertinence 
her request that the dog-trainer should have 
the privilege of repurchasing them, and in no 
case could she obtain any encouragement. 
The horse sold at a good price, but there were 
no other bidders for the van, and Mademoi- 
selle obtained it and its furniture at a nominal 
price. Two stout Percheron horses drew the 


Schemes of Signor Stromboli 159 

waggon, which her brother drove, and carried 
her tent and the planks which served as 
benches ; and she decided that the dog-trainer’s 
roulette could be attached behind this waggon, 
and would serve as an additional apartment 
at night for the accommodation of Pierre and 
the two dogs. 

Leading Rigolette and Rigolo, she returned 
through the forest to her camp, intending to 
send her brother with the horses for the rou- 
lette, and hastening her steps, as she remem- 
bered that the physician was to visit Pierre 
that afternoon, and that she wished to ask 
him how soon they might continue their 
journey if a hammock was swung in the rou- 
lette in which Pierre could lie without being 
endangered by the jolting of the van. 

In a lonely part of the wood she met a tall 
man dressed as a peasant, and in spite of the 
blue blouse and wide-brimmed straw hat she 
recognised the prestidigitateur. 

“Why are you here?” he asked. Then, 
answering his own question, “You came to 
attend the trial, hoping to do me a mischief, 
and you have made a mistake in the date and 
find yourself too late. Is it not so? They 
spoke of a witness whom they expected. It 
was you, then ! No wonder you can charm 


i6o Pierre and His Poodle 

serpents, — you are a serpent yourself. Well, 
you have failed ; but all the same I shall re- 
member your good intentions and I will repay 
you for them. Never fear but you shall be 
well paid.” 

This taunt and threat drove Mademoiselle 
wild. For the moment she lost her head, and 
replied with impolitic frankness : “You would 
not guess my errand if you were not guilty. 
You say I have failed, but you are not through 
with me yet. They have imprisoned one 
man, but they will not be satisfied until they 
have found the necklace. I know who has it, 
and the Marquis de St. Angel shall know be- 
fore I leave St. -Germain. You have more 
cause to be afraid of me than I of you. If 
you dare to come near my roulette, I will set 
Coco on you.” 

“ Serpent and companion of serpents,” 
hissed Signor Stromboli, “ go back to your 
relations. It is by your snakes that you 
make your living; it is by them that you 
will meet your death.” 

Mademoiselle laughed. “ I prefer the 
friendship of my serpents to your friend- 
ship,” she screamed in parting; “they are 
more attractive and less treacherous.” 

She tripped past him with her head well 



t ^ 



1 62 Pierre and His Poodle 

up, making a brave show of defiance; but she 
heard him following her, and at the first turn- 
ing she ran for dear life, for she believed him 
capable of any villainy. She had still to 
pass his encampment, and as she did so she 
saw Asoka standing in front of the roulette, 
holding two dogs in leash, Zulu and Popotte. 
She was so excited from her encounter with 
Signor Stromboli, and so astonished at the 
discovery of both dogs in his possession, that 
she said not a word to the East Indian, but 
hurried on to her own home. 

Signor Stromboli had secured the capture 
of the black poodle in the following manner. 

The purchaser of Zulu had left the poodle 
in charge of the groom at the stable of the 
inn while he took dinner. The other dogs 
had also been tied here while their masters 
sat over their wine. A tall peasant in a blue 
blouse lounged into the stable, and began to 
chat with the groom. Suddenly the sound of 
neighing was heard in the stable yard and 
the man dashed out thinking that a horse 
was loose. He was astonished to find the 
yard empty, and returned much puzzled. 
Signor Stromboli was a ventriloquist as well 
as prestidigitateur, and he had imitated the 
neighing of a horse so exactly as to deceive 


Schemes of Signor Stromboli 163 

this groom, who had lived all his life in the 
company of horses. In the instant while the 
groom had been out of the stable Signor 
Stromboli had cut Zulu’s cord, and the dog 
had bounded out of the open door and down 
the street. He had been uneasy for some 
minutes, for Asoka had passed the stable door 
leading Popotte, and she had recognised him, 
and barked a piteous call to him as she 
passed. Down the street raced Zulu, Asoka 
quickening his pace as he saw him coming, 
and turning down a lane which led out of 
town and into the forest. The peasant in 
the blue blouse remained in the stable and 
chatted with the groom, until, dinner being 
over, the guests of the inn came out for their 
vehicleser and dogs. Just as Zulu’s purchaser 
appeared the peasant slouched away. He 
walked out of town in an opposite direction 
from that taken by Asoka, intending to rejoin 
his man in the forest where the van was wait- 
ing. Mademoiselle Tourbillon had met the 
prestidigitateur, and had passed Asoka while 
he was still waiting for his master, who ar- 
rived a few minutes later, and was very angry 
when he ascertained from Asoka that Made- 
moiselle Tourbillon had seen both dogs in 
his possession. When the signor was angry, 


164 Pierre and His Poodle 

he was not agreeable, but Asoka knew how 
to appease him. He went into the van, fas- 
tened the dogs, and lighted a tiny pipe, which 
he brought out to his master. “ Have good 
dream,” he said, smiling ; “ forget all about 
bad girl. She no can do mischief” 

Signor Stromboli followed Asoka into 
the roulette, and, lying down on the bed, 
took the opium pipe from his hand ; but he 
only allowed himself a single inspiration, for 
he wished to direct his waking dream. It 
was not to be a good dream, and he did not 
wish to forget the girl who had angered him ; 
on the contrary, he wanted the aid of the 
opium to suggest some fantastic and terrible 
revenge. As he mused, he seemed to see 
her in her tableau of the Medusa’s head. 
The snakes writhed and erected themselves 
as they were accustomed to do ; but among 
them there was a small snake different from 
any that he had ever seen in Mademoiselle’s 
collection. It had a flat head and a hooded 
neck, which it slowly inflated. It paid rio 
attention to its lively comrades, but softly 
crept through the girl’s curling locks until 
it poised itself above her temple, where it 
wavered for an instant with quivering fangs, 
then struck suddenly at a blue vein, and 


Schemes of Signor Stromboli 165 

that marvellous smile left the sweet face as 
it instantly contorted in fearful agony, and 
after terrible convulsions finally became rigid 
in death. Signor Stromboli laughed aloud 
and sat up. 

“ Have good dream?” asked Asoka. “Not 
last long, — only three little minute.” 

“ Long enough,” Signor Stromboli replied. 
“ and a good dream, Asoka, a very good 
dream. Do you remember the day you went 
to the Jardin d’Acclimatation with me, and 
you pointed out to me a little serpent of your 
country which you said was very poisonous? ” 

“ Yes, me remember — swamp adder, one 
bad smally snaky shut up in lil cage by self, 
killee many people, killee quick. Doctor no 
can cure.” 

“ That ’s right, Asoka, that ’s the snake. Do 
you think you could steal it for me? ” 

“ What for want swamp adder — for give 
Mademoiselle Tourbillon?” 

“ Yes, Asoka. She has taken a fancy that 
she would like one, and you said you could 
make it follow the sound of that little whistle 
of yours. Now could n’t you manage to 
persuade the guardian to let you go inside 
the glass house, and when he was busy about 
something else whistle that snake into a box 


1 66 Pierre and His Poodle 

which you would have with you and bring 
him away for me this afternoon? ” 

Asoka nodded : “ Oh, yes ! guard man 
very friendly, thinkee Asoka big snake sahib 
— let me go in already, say how do to snakes, 
Catchee smally snaky all right, but it all 
same very bad HI snaky. Mademoiselle not 
can charm, maybe get kill pretty quick.” 

“ Look here, Asoka. Of course I will take 
out poison fangs before I give it to Made- 
moiselle. You talkee too much, Asoka. Go 
catchee snakee, catchee right away.” 



Chapter 8 



SWAMP ADDER 

AND THE 

PILGRIMAGE PARDON 


Mademoiselle Tourbillon found the phy- 
sician awaiting her at her camp. He 
reported that Pierre no longer required his 
visits, and might travel as she had sug- 
gested. Later in the afternoon Mademoi- 
selle’s brother returned with the gypsy 
roulette, and over their dinner a council was 
held as to their next destination. On her 
visit to her father, Minka had obtained Nagy 
Pal’s permission to remain with Mademoi- 
selle instead of joining the Varietes Amu- 
santes at Chantilly. The girl seemed to 
have lost all desire to see the races. She 
no longer talked of circus-riding, but had 


1 68 Pierre and His Poodle 

purchased a spelling-book and was labo- 
riously learning to read under Pierre’s 
instruction. 

“ I can learn more songs if I know how 
to read,” she said; “and if Pierre is sick 
again, I can read stories to him and amuse 
him.” 

“But I am not going to be sick again,” 
Pierre replied. “ I am going to get well 
right away, and help support you by putting 
Rigolette and Rigolo through their tricks. ” 

“That is all very well,” said Mademoi- 
selle ; “ but where are we to go The best 
fetes of the environs of Paris are over now. 
The fete season begins at Easter with the 
Fete du Trone, or Gingerbread Fair, at the 
Place de la Nation in Paris, and then comes 
the prettiest one of all, that of Neuilly in 
June, just after the Bataille des Fleurs, and 
the Grand Prix with which the fashionable 
people celebrate the coming of spring. They 
haven’t all scattered for the summer at that 
time; and the Parisians flock out to Neuilly, 
and make themselves merry all through the 
fete, just as the English people used to go 
a-Maying long ago before they had forgotten 
how to be jolly.” 

“What is the next fete.^” Pierre asked. 


The Swamp Adder 169 

‘‘That of the 14th of July; but it is our 
national fete, and is celebrated all over 
France, and not confined to any town, 
though it is finest at Paris.” 

“It must be a great saint’s day,” Minka 
said, “since every one makes such a fuss 
about it.” 

“It is not a church fete,” Mademoiselle 
replied, “but a patriotic one, because they 
pulled the Bastile down on that day. The 
Bastile was a prison.” 

“That’s good,” said Minka; “I think 
they might have pulled down all the prisons 
while they were about it. We always go to 
Paris for the 14th of July, and camp either 
on the Avenue Clichy in the north of the 
town, or on the Place d’ltalie on the south.” 

“I went to the Bois de Boulogne once 
with the little Marquis on the 14th of July,” 
said Pierre. “ There was a grand review of 
the troops. You should have seen the 
charge of the Cuirassiers. Oh, but it was 
fine ! ” 

“ I could never spare the time to see that,” 
said Mademoiselle. “The 14th of July is 
always one of our busiest days; but in the 
evening I close my tent and go down to one 
of the bridges to see the illuminations and 


lyo Pierre and His Poodle 

the Fete Venitienne on the Seine, with all 
the fireworks at the Hotel de Ville. Some 
of the streets are always roped off for danc- 
ing. The city erects stands for the musi- 
cians, and pays them to play all night; and 
all night long bands of students with their 
sweethearts roam through the streets, walk- 
ing with locked arms, six abreast, singing 
uproariously, and joining in the different 
dances. O la, la ! but I have amused myself 
those nights ! We always stay in Paris for 
a fortnight after the fete, for people do not 
tire of being merry right away, and the city 
is full of saltimbanques and other travelling 
showmen. After that they begin to straggle 
away to different fetes and fairs in the 
neighbouring villages. Every paroisse has 
its fete patronale, with a high mass and a 
procession on Sunday, and its different 
divertissements for a week or more. Some- 
times it is all for the children, with a distri- 
bution of prizes by the mayor and his lady 
at the ending of the Lycee; and there are 
sports and games, — the game of scissors for 
the girls and races for the boys, or 2ijeti de 
panme (ball game), or a joust with the lance 
for rings. Sometimes the riflemen have a 
lacker de pigrons, or target practice, or there 


The Swamp Adder 17 1 

is a regatta on the water, or manoeuvres of 
the firemen, or velocipede races, or maybe a 
balloon ascension; but always and every- 
where there will be dancing at night, arid 
music of some sort, either of a military 
band or of some other kind; and always 
our travelling show people are welcomed to 
help make things gay. Good luck for us 
that it is so, else how should we live.? But 
after the Fete des Loges and the Fete de 
St. Cloud there is very little going on in 
the way of fetes near Paris.” 

know why that is,” said Pierre; “it is 
because the Ouverture de la Chasse comes 
in September, and every one who owns a 
dog and a gun goes to visit his friends in the 
country, and chases the poor little wild 
things. All through the summer the pheas- 
ants were as tame as barnyard fowls in the 
St. Angel game preserves, and the quail 
would almost eat out of my hands. You 
saw yourself, Minka, how thick the rabbits 
were, and the little reed birds would hop 
along over the lily-pads, and the wild duck 
settle down all around me when I was out 
in a boat on the lake ; but pouf ! after the 
first party left the chateau in the drag, to 
fill their pouches in our forest, and my 


1J2 Pierre and His Poodle 

father beat up the game with old Diane, our 
best pointer, why, after that you would have 
thought the rabbits had emigrated for 
America. ” 

“ Don’t talk about the chateau any longer,” 
said Minka, scowling. “ I dare say it is just 
as you say, and that the stupid guests have 
killed some of your best dogs with their bad 
shots, and would have killed you by this 
time if you had stayed. Mademoiselle is 
waiting for you to tell her where you would 
like to go next.” 

“ Mademoiselle knows that I do not care. 
I want only to find Popotte ; so I suppose 
we must find out where the prestidigitateur 
is going and go there too.” 

“The prestidigitateur,” said Mademoi- 
selle; “he is here, encamped at the crossing 
of the next avenue, and Popotte and Zulu 
are with him. I saw them this afternoon.” 

Pierre sprang from his bed, but Mademoi- 
selle gently forced him back. “No, you 
are not strong enough. Besides, what can 
you do } ” 

“ I will make him give up Popotte and 
have him arrested.” 

“ I do not see how you can do either the 
one or the other. The photographer detec- 


173 


The Swamp Adder 

tive has not sent me the photographs which 
he took of me, nor has he sent me any 
address to which I can write him.” 

“But we can write the Marquis de St. 
Angel, and that I will do at once, and he 
will know how to put the officers on his 
track. ” 

“Yes; do that right away,” replied Made- 
moiselle. “ I shall not lift a finger to keep 
him from prison; but he will not stay here 
long, now that he has secured Zulu ; he will 
be off. I wish we could tell the Marquis 
where he is going.” 

“Do find that out. Mademoiselle; he will 
tell you, I am sure, and do please make him 
give you Popotte. Go and see him now, 
for he may go away in the morning.” 

“ I shall never go near him or speak to 
him again,” said Mademoiselle. “No, not 
for a hundred Popottes, or even for you, 
dear boy. He is a bad man; he threat- 
ened my life in the forest, and, yes, I 
will confess it, I, who was never afraid 
of any creature in my life, — I am afraid 
of him.” 

“I am not afraid of him,” said Minka. 
“ He has caused my father to be unjustly 
imprisoned ; he has our Zulu and your 


174 Pierre and His Poodle 

Popotte. I will go to his roulette and 
demand them both.” 

She threw a little shawl over her head, 
and strode angrily away. Pierre called her 
back: ‘‘Don’t go alone, Minka. He may do 
you a mischief. Oh, how I wish I could 
go with you ! ” 

But Minka strode on through the darken- 
ing forest until she saw the light streaming 
as from the eyes of some dragon from the 
two tiny windows of the roulette. Then 
she paused, not from fear but because of the 
sudden thought, “ If I bring back Popotte, 
Pierre will stay with us no longer, but will 
go back to the chateau.” 

Her eyes had become accustomed to the 
dusk, and she could see something white 
moving about under the van. It was 
Popotte, who was tethered to the wheel. 
Suddenly she heard a rustle, a stealthy step, 
and a dark form leaped upon her. She sank 
to the ground with fright, then recovered 
herself as she realised that this was neither 
wild beast nor malignant human being, but 
Zulu, whose quick scent had recognised her, 
and who had broken loose and was covering 
her with doggish caresses. She held his 
nose firmly in a way which her father had 



MINKA SEEKS POPOTTE bv NIGHT 


176 Pierre and His Poodle 

taught him, signified that he must not bark, 
and, leading him back to the prestidigita- 
teur’s van, tied him more firmly to the wheel. 
“It breaks my heart to leave you, Zulu,” 
she said, as the dog whined his protesta- 
tions, “but my father has said that he will 
not take you back; and though I love you, I 
cannot forgive you that you have ruined 
him. You are a bad dog, Zulu, and you 
must stay with your bad companions.” 

Popotte stole up to her and licked her 
hands. “ Poor little weasel ! ” she said, “ how 
happy moil ami Pierot would be to hold you 
in his arms again ! But no, even the charm 
that binds and holds would not keep him 
with us then.” 

She tightened the knot and slipped back 
to the road, when Zulu, feeling himself 
deserted and restrained from following her, 
howled dismally. The door of the roulette 
opened ; Asoka came out, and, having kicked 
Zulu, walked toward her. Fancying herself 
discovered, Minka fled down the road to the 
camp, and, dashing into the tent where 
Mademoiselle and her brother were sitting 
by Pierre’s bedside, she told them that she 
had been interrupted while untying Popotte, 
and had been chased by the East Indian. 


177 


The Swamp Adder 

In effect Asoka really did lift the tent cur- 
tain a few moments later, but he had not 
intentionally followed Minka. He stood 
gravely salaaming until the serpent-charmer 
bade him enter, when he placed a cocoanut 
on the ground at her feet, saying, “ Little 
present for great lady. Nice smallee snakee 
from Asoka’ s country, for lady to charm.” 

“Is there a serpent in that coacoanut.?” 
Mademoiselle asked. 

Asoka nodded, and, removing the upper 
portion of the shell, which had been sawed 
into two sections, he showed a small adder 
coiled in a nest of the fibre. Then, squatting 
in front of it, Asoka took from the folds of 
his robe a pipe of bamboo, and began to 
play upon it. The reptile erected itself, and 
waved its head to and fro in time to the 
music; then, as its character changed to a 
sort of lullaby, recoiled itself and seemingly 
returned to a dormant condition. 

“Easy tune to learn,” said Asoka, hand- 
ing Mademoiselle the pipe; “make nice 
show. ” 

Mademoiselle took the pipe, and, Asoka 
showing her how to place her fingers, she 
was able to excite and calm the snake in the 
“ That will make quite a new 


same manner. 


lyS Pierre and His Poodle 

feature in my exhibition,” she said grate- 
fully. “You are very good, Asoka, to make 
me such a nice present. How did you get 
it, and what shall I give it to eat ? ” 

“Bought cocoanuts,” Asoka said, lying 
calmly. “One bad nut, little hole inside. 
Lay nut in sun, smallee snakee come out. 
Catchee for you. Not need much eat; 
catchee flies; drink lil drop milk. Nice 
snakee for trick when lady have snakes in 
hair.” 

“Are you sure it is not a poisonous 
snake.?” Mademoiselle asked. “I do not 
know that variety.” 

“No can hurt; poison gone; baby play in 
our country all same baby here play smallee 
cat.” 

By this, Asoka, who had been previously 
instructed by Signor Stromboli as to exactly 
what he should say, desired to convey the 
impression that the adder was as harmless 
as a kitten. 

“You always were a good friend of mine, 
Asoka,” Mademoiselle said kindly, “and I 
will tell you -what I would like even more 
than a new snake for my collection, and that 
is the little dog which Signor Stromboli 
gave me and took back again.” 


The Swamp Adder 179 

Asoka shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘My 
master not like me give you that.” 

“But you might leave her untied,” said 
Pierre, “and you need not know what has 
become of her.” 

“Me see,” replied Asoka. 

“ Where are you going next ” asked 
Mademoiselle; “and when do you leave St. - 
Germain ? ” 

“ Going far off to pilgrimage in Brittany, 
where the lion sahib go.” 

“You mean to St. Anne d’Auray, where 
the dompteur went ? ” 

“Yes; going morrow morning very early. 
Where lady going ” 

“ I have not decided yet. Leave the little 
dog behind you, Asoka, and I will give you 
a nice present when I see you next.” 

Asoka grinned and salaamed, and backed 
out of the tent. 

Mademoiselle took up the cocoanut, and, 
carrying it into her own van, placed it in an 
empty cage. “That snake will make a nice 
little end man for my fillet just above my 
ear in the Medusa tableau,” she said to 
herself. “ He erects himself with exactly 
the same curve that I have noticed in a copy 
of an old Egyptian picture of Cleopatra. I 


i8o Pierre and His Poodle 

can teach Minka to play the pipe and keep 
him swaying to and fro during the represen- 
tation. I am quite impatient to try him.” 

Minka was bidding Pierre good-night. 
“You will go again, Minka, will you not,” 
he pleaded, “and see if Asoka has untied 
Popotte.? You need not go very close to 
the roulette, but only where she will hear 
you call. I shall be so grateful to you if 
you can get her for me. I know you will if 
you can, dear Minka, because you love me 
so.” 

Minka nodded, and went out into the 
night. “I am wicked, wicked,” she said to 
herself. “ I could not look him in the face 
to-night. What was it he said about duty.^ 
‘ It is that which we must do whether we 
like it or not, because we know that if we do 
not we cannot look straight into the eyes of 
those who love us. ’ Oh ! this duty is a very 
fearful thing. I shall never be able to look 
him in the eyes again. He said I would do 
it because I loved him; it must be, then, 
that I will not because I love myself, for if I 
loved him I would want to make him happy. 
Oh ! Pierot, Pierot ! I do love you better 
than myself, and whatever happens you shall 
have your Popotte.” 


The Swamp Adder i8i 

The moon had risen, and she found her 
way easily to the van of the prestidigitateur ; 
but there were no dogs tethered beneath 
it. Thinking that Asoka had possibly 
released them, she called them at first 
softly and then more loudly, and was an- 
swered by a furious barking and scratching 
on the inside of the door of the van. The 
suspicious East Indian had taken the alarm, 
and had secured the dogs against her 
stratagems by fastening them within the 
roulette. 

Pierre, though disappointed, was not 
entirely disheartened, especially as Made- 
moiselle announced her decision the next 
morning to follow the prestidigitateur to 
Brittany. Pierre wrote to the Marquis as he 
had determined to do, and Minka mailed the 
letter as they passed through the town. 
Though they had started early, when they 
passed the prestidigitateur’s place of en- 
campment they saw that he had already 
gone, but his camp-fire, still smouldering, 
seemed to prove that he could be only an 
hour ahead of them, and that they would 
soon overtake him. 

St. Anne d’Auray was a long way from 
Paris and from the chateau of St. Angel. 


1 82 Pierre and His Poodle 

Pierre realised this as the vans crept slowly 
up the hills, which gave him ever fainter and 
fainter backward views of towns which had 
themselves looked far away when they set 
out. They were plunging into an unknown 
country, the province of Sarthe, and all was 
unfamiliar. The peasants spoke a different 
patois, and the pastures were covered with 
flocks of geese. Myriads, they seemed, as 
one white cloud of them after another 
stretched away over the green fields. The 
hillside slopes were ruby red with patches 
of buckwheat, whose white blossoms a little 
earlier had powdered the fields with summer 
snow. Next they passed through an inter- 
minable apple orchard. Apples lay by the 
roadside in disregarded heaps, and hung 
overhead, green and russet and red. Pierre 
had never imagined there could be so many 
apples in the world, and they were free to 
eat as many as they pleased, and cider was 
almost as cheap as water. The smell of 
apples, and the noise of sabots clattering 
merrily over cobble-stones, always came back 
to Pierre in after days when any one said 
Normandy. Farther on there were wayside 
crosses, and the landes grew more level and 
barren, and there were whiffs of sea air blown 


The Swamp Adder 183 

across the downs. There were more women 
working in the fields now, for the men were 
away at the fisheries, and the children were 
gathering mistletoe to send to England for 
Christmas festivities, of which they them- 
selves knew nothing; and there were hideous 
beggars, mere bundles of rags, as well as 
troops of sturdy young women in wonderful 
starched caps and gold earrings trudging 
along to the Pardon, for now they were in 
Brittany. Pierre even doubted that he could 
find his way back alone; but his sinking, 
home-sick heart was comforted by the assur- 
ance that in November they would return 
to Paris ; and as by that time surely he 
would have found Popotte, it would be a 
triumphal home-coming. How rejoiced the 
young Marquis would be to hug his pet to his 
heart once more! Of his mother’s happi- 
ness at seeing him, and his own joy on feel- 
ing her arms about his neck, he scarcely 
dared think. A mist of happy tears dimmed 
his eyes at the mere thought that sometime 
this might be. 

And all the time this healthful out-oT 
door life and gentle jogging on through 
varied and interesting scenes was doing 
Pierre good physically. Pie ..walked beside 


184 Pierre and His Poodle 

the cart now, and sometimes climbed the 
apple-trees for mere pleasure. 

Whenever they halted at night they would 
give a little performance, — sometimes at a 
market, where the peasants spread their 
fruits and cheese in the public square of 
some village, or in the barn of a rich farmer. 
Once it was at a mossy mill, which peeped 
from under its hood of golden brown thatch 
like a pretty peasant from under her coif. 
It was wonderful how quickly the news of 
their coming circulated and an audience col- 
lected. The miller gave them leave to use 
his sheds, and the miller’s boys rolled in 
barrels and laid planks across them for seats, 
and then cleared them out for a dance after 
the exhibition; one of them going to the 
next town with a donkey to fetch over a 
fiddler. It happened that he was a very fair 
musician, and Minka was delighted with his 
playing, and he with hers. He had wished 
to go to the Pilgrimage, and he offered to 
teach Minka if Mademoiselle would take 
him, and so the old man was added to the 
troupe. 

On Saturday night they usually managed 
to halt beside some church. Sometimes it 
was only a chapel at a cross-roads, which 


The Swamp Adder 185 

lifted its tiny belfry above a little cemetery, 
which did duty for four villages. Here the 
troupe would attend early mass, and the 
entire congregation, not excepting the cure, 
would reciprocate by honouring their per- 
formance. At large towns they would fre- 
quently obtain the mayor’s permission to 
give their exhibition in the public sheds 
provided for the markets, and once in Nor- 
mandy they assisted at a foire aux chevaux^ 
or fair of great Percheron horses, such as 
Rosa Bonheur painted in her celebrated 
picture. 

Pierre had learned to show off Rigolette 
and Rigolo very cleverly, though he often 
mourned that he had not Popotte as well, 
and insisted on her superior intelligence. 
Minka did not contradict him at these times. 
Her conscience smote her, and the knowl- 
edge that she had had it in her power to 
restore Pierre’s pet became a burden more 
and more intolerable. His very trustfulness 
was a reproach. The spell held, she had 
her will; he remained with her, utterly 
unsuspecting any malign influences. Her 
will was his will, and he was her cheerful, 
loving slave. But she was not happy; she 
could no longer look him in the face, for 


1 86 Pierre and His Poodle 

she was certain that if he knew the truth 
he would despise and hate her. Questions 
of right and wrong had never troubled her be- 
fore she knew him; but “remorse is virtue’s 
root,” and her soul was growing through 
humiliation and repentant pain, yearning 
and groping in the darkness for a nobler 
life. She looked as earnestly as Pierre now 
for any signs of the prestidigitateur’s van; 
but they neither passed it on the way nor 
heard of its having gone on before. Made- 
moiselle thought it probable that he had 
taken another route, and was sure that they 
would find him established in the public 
place at Auray. She had not given her 
Medusa tableau on the way, reserving it for 
the Pardon Pilgrimage; but she had an- 
nounced this crowning attraction at each of 
her performances, certain that fame would 
travel faster with curiosity as its coachman. 
So the swamp adder slept in his nest of 
cocoanut fibre waiting his time, like a veno- 
mous secret, to strike to the death; and 
Minka took lessons of the old musician, and, 
tortured with self-reproach, sang her songs 
with such pathos that people wondered how 
so young a girl had acquired a voice of such 
sympathetic quality. 


The Swamp Adder 187 

At last on a golden October day they 
drove into Auray. The dompteur’s menage- 
rie was a principal feature among the nomad 
tents pitched in front of the old church, and 
hearty was the welcome given by Maxi- 
miliene, Adrienne, and Augustine to their 
old friend Minka and to Pierre. But the 
dompteur’s family had seen nothing of the 
Escarpalette Diabolique, with its Satanic 
pictures, or the signor in his scarlet Me- 
phistophelian hood, or Asoka’s dark face 
framed by his halo of white turban. 

‘‘They are not here,” Adrienne asserted; 
and they were all satisfied that this must be 
true, for when Augustine, who had been 
taught the catechism, had been told that no 
one had seen God, she had asked, “ Not even 
Adrienne.? ” and being assured that even her 
sister’s prying eyes had not been granted 
this privilege, she shook her small head 
incredulously and replied positively, “What 
Adrienne has not seen cannot exist. ” 

Adrienne had other news for Pierre. A 
photographer who had attended their exhi- 
bition a number of times, and had taken 
pictures of the tigress, had inquired for 
Pierre with great interest, as well as for 
Mademoiselle Tourbillon and Minka. He 


1 88 Pierre and His Poodle 

had said that he was a special friend of 
Mademoiselle’s, and had shown Adrienne 
some photographs which he had taken of her 
in her famous tableau. “ He promised to 
send Mademoiselle some of them, but he 
never did,” said Pierre ; and Adrienne agreed 
to find him and tell him that Mademoiselle 
had arrived and claimed her photographs. 

“There is another man here who wants 
to see Mademoiselle Tourbillon, ” said 
Adrienne, — “I never did see people in such 
request, — and that is Professor Saumur.” 

“ Professor Saumur, ” repeated Pierre. “ I 
have heard that name, but I don’t know 
where.” 

“Well, he knows about Mademoiselle, or 
rather Coco, for it is really Coco whom he 
wants to see. He is a dermatologist and a 
tax-collector; no, not that, a collector of 
beasts and a tax — tax — oh ! I know, a tax- 
idermist and zoologist. He came here all 
the way from Paris to get Sirocco.” 

“Why, Sirocco is your father’s tigress that 
I washed.” 

“And that jumped at you. Well, she 
jumped at father, too, and he decided not to 
keep her; so he put an advertisement in the 
Paris papers, and Professor Saumur came 


The Swamp Adder 189 

down to buy her; but he decided that she 
was too dangerous even for a menagerie, so 
they killed her, and he is stuffing her in a 
barn. I ’ll take you to see.” 

“All right; but what did he want of 
Mademoiselle Tourbillon.^*” 

“When the photographer was showing us 
the photographs. Professor Saumur was there, 
and he saw them too, and he said : ‘ That 
must be the serpent-charmer that my friend 
Dr. Somebody had such an interesting expe- 
rience with at the Fete des Loges. She 
has a fine boa-constrictor which nearly killed 
a boy that night. I have been trying to find 
her to make her an offer for it. ’ ” 

“Mademoiselle would no more sell Coco 
than she would sell Minka,” Pierre replied; 
“but I would like to see the man stuff the 
tiger. Will he let me in.? ” 

“ Of course not, but I know a way through 
a granary to a loft where we can lie on the 
hay and look down. I watched him skin 
the creature. It was awfully interesting. 

I ’m afraid they have taken away the carcass; 
but come along.” 

Adrienne slipped stealthily to her place 
of observation, but Pierre was not so adroit, 
and some hay fell into the barn below, and 


190 Pierre and His Poodle 

the taxidermist looked up from his work. 
*^So you are there, my little barn owl with 
the great eyes, watching me as usual; but 
who said you might bring company.? Your 
friend there would not be so anxious to 
come if this tigress were alive.” 

He was not afraid of Sirocco even then,” 
Adrienne replied. “ He went into her cage 
and gave her a bath.” 

“ So that is the boy of whom I have heard 
your father and the photographer speak. 
Come down, my boy, and let me have a look 
at you.” 

Pierre clambered to the floor, and stood 
looking at the strange model on which Pro- 
fessor Saumur was at work, preparatory to 
covering it with the tiger’s skin. He was 
winding the legs with yarn in order to get 
just the right shape to the different curves. 
He showed Pierre some photographs which 
had been taken from Sirocco herself, and 
also some others from statues of tigers by 
Barye. 

“ Barye was a famous sculptor of animals,” 
he explained. “ He was my teacher, not in 
art, but I attended the lectures on the com- 
parative anatomy of animals which he gave 
at the Jardin des Plantes in Paris.” 


The Swamp Adder 19 1 

Pierre was intensely • interested. He 
stayed as long as he felt that he could be 
spared, and begged leave to come again. 
“Whenever you please,” said Professor 
Saumur; and as he corrected his figure, 
carrying out a criticism which Pierre had 
made, he said to himself, “ That boy 
has remarkable powers of observation; he 
would make a capital student in original 
research. ” 

Pierre spent all the time that he could 
in Professor Saumur’ s laboratory, and the 
Professor gave him a book on animals which 
interested him even more than Jules Verne’s 
stories had done, for he was assured that it 
was all true. The Professor told him stories, 
too, of hunts for wild animals in the jungles, 
and how he had shot a tiger larger than 
Sirocco, but had not wounded it mortally, 
for it had escaped, and though the beaters 
had tracked it into the forest by the blood, 
they had been afraid to follow it far. Pierre 
looked surprised, almost scornful. “Why 
didn’t you shoot it in the brain. he 
asked. 

“It is not easy to calculate so nicely,” the 
Professor replied, “especially when your 
hand trembles with excitement.” 


192 Pierre and His Poodle 

“ My father has hunted all kinds of wild 
animals that we have in France,” Pierre 
replied; “and he never misses a shot. His 
hand never trembles, but I suppose that is 
because he is never excited.” 

They were walking down the principal 
street of the town as they talked, and the 
Professor stopped before a shooting-gallery, 
one of the booths that had been set up to 
catch the pennies of the pilgrims. 

“ I will show you that I am not a bad 
shot when I am not excited,” he said; and 
he broke the glass ball that danced on a jet 
of water at the end of the gallery nine times 
out of ten trials. 

“Would you also like to try.?” he said 
smiling, and handing the gun to Pierre. 

“ I have never shot balls,” the boy replied, 
“but I have shot wild-fowl, and I would 
like to try.” 

Ten times the rifle cracked, and this time 
ten balls instead of nine were broken. 

“You are a better shot than I am,” said 
the Professor. “ I would like to take you 
with me the next time I go out to Africa. ” 

“ Oh ! will you .? ” Pierre exclaimed, his 
face radiant with delight. 

“ I will, indeed. I am going after Christ- 


193 


The Swamp Adder 

mas, and if you like you may go as my ser- 
vant, but I will teach you all I can about 
zoology whenever we have time.” 

“Oh! thank you, thank you,” Pierre ex- 
claimed, and he darted off in ecstasy to tell 
Minka of his good fortune. A gentleman 
who saw him running sprang after him, and 
seized him firmly by the shoulder. As they 
stood glaring at each other breathlessly, 
Professor Saumur came up. 

“ So you have nabbed another subject for 
your camera,” he said pleasantly; “that was 
a snap shot with a drop shutter.” 

“A subject that has given me more 
trouble in catching than any other in my 
professional career,” replied the detective, 
“but I have him safely at last;” and his 
grip tightened as he spoke. 

“Well, when you are through with him 
pass him over to me,” said Professor Saumur, 
“as he has just promised to go to Africa 
with me.” 

“I haven’t the slightest doubt that he 
would like to do so, but I am sorry to say 
that he is wanted in another direction, and 
that it is my duty to postpone that little ex- 
cursion, as I have a warrant for his arrest in 
my pocket. ” 


13 


194 


Pierre and His Poodle 


Arrest ! ” Pierre exclaimed indignantly, 
“and for what? ” 

“You know well enough, you young 
rascal, but Professor Saumur should know 
also. It is for stealing the Marquise de St. 
Angel’s ruby necklace.” 



Chapter 9 



The reason that Mademoiselle Tourbillon’s 
little troupe had not overtaken Signor 
Stromboli on their way to Brittany or dis- 
covered him at the Pardon was a very simple 
one. He had never had any intention of 
going there, and the perfidious man had 
instructed Asoka to make them believe that 
this was his destination, in order to have 
them as far away from his own neighbour- 
hood as possible when the tragedy which he 
had planned in the gift of the adder should 
take place. Mademoiselle should have seen 
through this very simple trick, for she had 


196 Pierre and His Poodle 

threatened the signor that she would put the 
officers of the law upon his track, and for 
this reason alone it was only natural that 
he should wish to deceive her as to his 
destination. 

While Mademoiselle was hastening in a 
southwesterly direction, Signor Stromboli 
stole away to the North of Paris, and began 
a series of performances at Chantilly, which 
was filled to overflowing with sporting- 
people who had arrived a little before the 
races. Many of them were jockeys and turf- 
men, but there were also a number of idle 
loungers of the wealthy class, who had come 
to see the horses practised in order to get 
points for betting, and who had brought 
plenty of money to risk. There were not 
lacking as well professional gamblers and 
tricksters, who regarded these young men as 
their legitimate prey, and large sums of 
money changed hands within a short radius 
of the handsome ecuries. The prestidigita- 
teur drew full houses, and reaped a large 
harvest from this pleasure-seeking, floating 
population. His particular kind of enter- 
tainment appealed to all classes. Many of 
his feats were performed with cards, and he 
was an adept at every kind of trick. He 


197 ^ 


The Chantilly Races 

gave seances in club-rooms and in the private 
apartments of men about town, as well as in 
more equivocal places, and there was not a 
gambler whom he could not dupe, while 
every hostler and groom crowded into his 
tent to see him juggle in his mystifying 
sleight-of-hand performances. 

The races were to last three days, and 
throughout their duration the grand route 
from Paris was recognisable from a distance 
by a long cloud of yellow dust thrown up by 
the wheels of vehicles of every description 
bringing visitors to and from Chantilly. 

The pelouse^ or race-course, a vast expanse 
of velvet turf, is one of the most beautifully 
situated in France. On two sides a noble 
forest screens it in; on a third it is fronted 
by the monumental stables, which, with 
their central dome and long wings ending 
in pavilions suggest rather the classic halls 
of some institution of learning than a ren- 
dezvous for race-horses. Two hundred and 
sixty can be accommodated in this equine 
palace, but its hospitality is not sufficient 
for the demand, and there are many great 
private stables belonging to various mem- 
bers of the nobility and other establishments 
for the entertainment and training of horses 


198 Pierre and His Poodle 

scattered throughout the town. The grand 
ecuries were built in the last century by the 
Prince de Conde, whose lordly chateau, with 
its magnificent gardens and park, gives a 
charming vista on the fourth side of the 
race-course to the thousands of spectators 
who crowd its grand stands. 

The Marquis de St. Angel was fond of 
fine horses, and on the first day of the races 
drove to Chantilly with the Marquise, 
Ludovic, and Ludovic’s governess. While 
his father and mother were watching the 
races, Ludovic’s governess took him to walk 
in the forest to the spot where the temporary 
buildings of the showmen had been erected. 
Ludovic, feeding the importance of his expe- 
rience at the Fde des Loges, showed his 
governess about, and explained the different 
divertissements. He offered to treat her to 
a ride on the merry-go-round; but this the 
good woman declined, and she also restrained 
him when he wished to buy her a ginger- 
bread pig. Suddenly Ludovic exclaimed, — 

“ But, Mademoiselle, here is the Escarpo- 
lette Diabolique where my father took me to 
see the basket-trick ! and there is the very 
East Indian. It was wonderful; do come in 
and see it ! ” 


199 


The Chantilly Races 

The governess had not heard that the rob- 
bery of the necklace had occurred on the 
occasion of the Marquis’s visit to this exhi- 
bition, and, arguing that it was allowable for 
her to go with Pierre where his father had 
already taken him, she readily consented to 
the boy’s request. 

As they were leaving the tent Ludovic felt 
a twitch at the pocket of his jacket, and, 
turning quickly, saw by the light from the 
lifted door-curtains a black dog scampering 
toward the back of the tent with something 
in his mouth. Clapping his hand to his 
pocket, and finding that his little purse was 
gone, he, without an instant’s hesitation, 
ran after the dog. It wriggled under a loose 
portion of the side of the tent, and Ludovic, 
small and lithe, threw himself on all fours 
and followed just in time to see Zulu run up 
the steps and enter the open door of a rou- 
lette whose front almost touched the tent. 
Ludovic, fearless and resolute, and intent 
upon regaining his purse, which he supposed 
the dog had taken through mere play, sprang 
up the steps and saw Zulu lay the purse 
before a dirty little poodle which he did 
not at first recognise as his lost Popotte. 
But Popotte recognised her master, and in 


200 


Pierre and His Poodle 


her esctasy broke the cord which bound her, 
nearly going mad in the wild exuberance 
of her joy. Her delight was convincing. 
Mangy, thin, blear-eyed, and unkempt, no 
other dog would have so leaped upon him, 
and barked its little heart out in a passion of 
frantic caresses; and Ludovic, in spite of 
the fact that Popotte in her present condi- 
tion was a most unattractive object, lifted 
her in his arms, and, hugging her tight to his 
breast, ran as fast as he could to his gover- 
ness. In his excitement he forgot his purse. 
He was sobbing for joy; and if a dog can 
weep, Popotte was crying too. They hurried 
to the race-track, escorted by Zulu, who 
hardly knew whether or not to approve of 
the turn which events had taken, and 
announced their discovery to the Marquis 
and his wife, who were watching the races 
from their carriage. The Marquise would 
not at first believe that this wretched beast 
was really the exquisite Popotte; but when 
she performed several of her old tricks at 
Ludovic’ s command, she also was convinced. 
The footman was ordered to take Popotte to 
the stables and wash her, and to inquire for 
a veterinary surgeon who could prescribe for 
her troubles. Ludovic went with the ser- 


201 


The Chantilly Races 

vant, for he could not be persuaded to leave 
his darling for an instant. And drive off 
that strange dog,” the Marquis called, as he 
observed that Zulu was following them. 
The footman threatened Zulu, and he ran 
away, but only in a circle, returning con- 
tinually. “ He will tire of following after a 
time if we pay no attention to him,” said 
the footman, and they acted on this belief. 
Popotte’s once beautiful hair was so matted 
that it was found necessary to shear her com- 
pletely; and her emaciated little body was 
found to be seamed and scarred, where she 
had been cruelly beaten. After her bath 
she was wrapped in a fragment of a horse- 
blanket. 

“To think that Popotte should be grateful 
for such a covering as this,” said Ludovic, — 
“she who has as many toilettes as a fashion- 
able lady. I was looking at her little coats 
only the other day. There was a yachting- 
costume of blue cloth with gold anchors; 
but merely going on board when the yacht 
was lying in harbour would make her sea- 
sick, and so we never took her on a cruise. 
When grandfather died and the whole family 
were put in mourning, Popotte had a little 
black velvet coat made, with our coat-of- 


202 


Pierre and His Poodle 


arms embroidered in silver. She looked 
like one of the funeral coach-horses in his 
black trappings. And when my sister was 
married Popotte wore a white satin mantle, 
and had a wreath of orange blossoms around 
her neck. Dear Popotte, you shall have 
them all again, and shall not be submitted 
to the indignity of that coarse blanket.” 

But Popotte cuddled down into the blanket, 
very well content with its warmth. It was 
the only covering she had had since she 
eloped with Zulu, and it seemed to her the 
utmost luxury. The surgeon treated Popotte, 
and gave the footman some medicaments 
with directions as to their use, and they 
returned with h^r to the Marquise. Here it 
was discovered that Zulu, who had made 
the rounds with them, had slunk under the 
carriage. 

“He seems to be remarkably devoted to 
Popotte,” said the Marquise; “but he will 
have to bid good-bye to his friend now, for 
he will soon tire of running behind when 
we start for home. Did you think to feed 
Popotte ? ” 

This had been crowded from their minds 
by the other matters to which they had 
to attend ; but though Ludovic had for- 


The Chantilly Races 203 

gotten that his . pet might be hungry, this 
fact had not been ignored by Zulu, who 
began now to forage among the baskets of 
the picnickers, and brought back a part of a 
cold roast pheasant, which he managed by 
leaping upon the steps to lay upon the car- 
riage floor. This singular performance at- 
tracted the attention of the Marquis, and 
light began to break upon his mind. 

“ I believe, •’ he said, “that this is the very 
dog that committed the thefts at St. -Ger- 
main. He was shown in the court-room, 
and actually stole the luncheon of one of the 
lawyers, and carried it to the gypsy. ” 

“ But you know that Pierre wrote us that 
the man who trained him to steal and who 
profited by his thefts was not Nagy Pal, but 
the prestidigitateur, in whose tent the rob- 
beries were committed.” 

“I have thought that this might be pos- 
sible,” the Marquis replied, “and I hoped 
that Pierre would attend the trial and testify ; 
it was his failing to do so that convinced 
the detective that I employed that Pierre 
himself was a party to the crime.” 

“ But, father, ” Ludovic exclaimed, “ it was 
in the van of that very prestidigitateur that 
we found Popotte, and the black dog had 


204 Pierre and His Poodle 

taken my pocket-book; that was what made 
me follow him.” 

“That puts a different aspect on affairs,” 
said the Marquis; and he immediately drove 
to the police-station of the town, and de- 
manded the arrest of Signor Stromboli. 
The agents descended upon the van, but 
found it locked and vacant, for the signor 
had an appointment at the hotel with a 
young count to whom he hoped to sell the 
ruby necklace, and Asoka was searching 
among the booths for the two poodles. The 
police found many stolen articles, and among 
them Ludovic’s purse, which was promptly 
identified by the St. Angels. While they 
were standing before the tent and the police 
were within. Signor Stromboli returned. 
He came forward with cheerful alacrity at 
first, having noticed the elegant carriage 
and thinking that some aristocratic patron 
was looking for him. Zulu leaped upon 
him playfully, and the signor called Asoka 
to tie up the dog, for he feared that Zulu 
might practise some of his accomplishments 
upon his guests. But Asoka was not there, 
and while Signor Stromboli was asking 
politely to what he owed the honour of this 
visit, Zulu thrust his nose into the signor’s 


205 


The Chantilly Races 

own pocket and drew out a morocco case, 
which the signor, manifestly alarmed, 
attempted to snatch from him. But a gen- 
darme who was just coming out of the tent 
had noticed the action, and grasped the 
prestidigitateur by both arms, while Zulu 
curvetted wildly around the carriage, and 
finally leaped in and laid the casket before 
Popotte. The marquis opened it, and there, 
intact, blazed the royal rubies; and the gen- 
darmes led Signor Stromboli away to prison 
to await his trial. 

“You have expiated your share of the 
crime,” said the Marquis, patting Zulu’s 
head, “for you have made full reparation.” 

“And Pierre was right,” Ludovic cried 
excitedly, “for it was really this bad man, 
and not the gypsy, who had mamma’s neck- 
lace.” 

“ Pierre was right, and Pierre is innocent,” 
replied the Marquis; “but the next thing is 
to find him.” 

Alas ! Pierre was far away in Brittany, 
and in great trouble. Only one friend of 
Pierre’s had seen him led away by the 
detective in the direction of the police- 
staion. The lynx-eyed Adrienne had, as 
usual, taken in the entire situation. She 


2o 6 Pierre and His Poodle 

wriggled through the crowd to report Pierre’s 
misfortune to Mademoiselle, but on her 
way she noticed that Minka stood by the 
church steps, waiting to see the procession 
of penitents, which was now approaching, 
each carrying his or her twinkling taper. 
The gorgeous beadle, in cocked hat and 
tricolour sash, marched first, waving his 
gold-headed cane like a drum-major. Then 
came the dear little choir boys in red petti- 
coats and lace pinafores, swinging censers 
and holy-water pots, while the older choristers 
chanted, and the priest bore a processional 
cross, and a plumed violet velvet canopy was 
carried over the pain hhiit by old sailors. 
The banner of the Virgin headed the com- 
pany of the religieuses, whose white caps 
looked to Adrienne absurdly like a flock of 
geese marching with outspread wings. And 
now the first communion girls followed, all 
in white with floating veils like brides, and 
then penitents of every class, some walking 
painfully on their knees, some weeping, and 
some praying aloud. It was while they 
were passing into the church that Adrienne 
told Minka of Pierre’s arrest. “And if you 
do not hide he will arrest you too,” the girl 
added, and Minka felt that she spoke the 


207 


The Chantilly Races 

truth. The law had been cruel to her father, 
though he was innocent; and now it had 
seized upon dear, innocent Pierre. Surely 
there was no safety except in flight; but 
where could she go, on what friend call.? 
“Go into the church with the others,” coun- 
selled Adrienne, with something of the feel- 
ing that the church was a sanctuary for the 
hunted. 

“ They cannot seize you there. Stay until 
I come for you. I will find Mademoiselle, 
and come back and tell you what to do.” 

Minka fell in with the procession, and en- 
tered the church. She cowered in its darkest 
corner; just within the embrasure of a little 
chapel, kneeling because the others knelt 
and she did not wish to attract attention. 
She felt that she had no more in common 
with this company of pilgrims than a poor 
hare that might have crept in to get away 
from the dogs, though indeed no pilgrim 
among them had come from a greater dis- 
tance or with a heart more deeply burdened 
than her own. She listened to the service, 
whose meaning she could not comprehend, 
though its solemnity impressed her. Then 
a young priest dressed in the garb of the 
Freres Precheurs in a robe of cream-coloured 


2o 8 Pierre and His Poodle 

cloth, its broad sleeves turned back from his 
shapely hands, a cowl falling upon the bent 
shoulders that proclaimed the scholar, rosary 
and crucifix at his belt, mounted the pulpit 
stairs. His face was plain, but it lighted 
up with a rapt expression as he spoke, and 
now Minka understood, for his words were 
simple and very earnest. He entreated his 
hearers to put away from them their darling 
sins. 

“Why have you come to this Pardon.^” 
he asked. “ Because your hearts convict 
you of sin, because you can no longer bear 
its terrible load. You have borne^ it in 
secret for many days, as a death-smitten 
wretch bears in silence the agony of a cancer. 
No one has known; it was covered with 
satin and jewels. You have laughed and 
made merry with your friends, when the 
hateful thing was eating, eating its way into 
your life; but at last the anguish has be- 
come intolerable, and you cast yourself 
before the Great Physician entreating him 
to heal you. Alas! even he cannot do this 
without the knife. Cut away this sin, 
though your heart go with it ; and in what- 
ever sore trouble or dark perplexity you 
stand, I tell you that God himself will 


The Chantilly Races 209 

appear for your help and will grant you his 
pardon and peace.” 

Minka knew nothing of the office of the 
confessional or of penance. No one had 
taught her even to pray; but the instinct of 
prayer is God-given, and in her case it found 
expression in a strange way. She repeated 
the old heathenish gypsy charm which her 
father had taught her, the charm which she 
believed bound and held Pierre, slowly 
backward^ thus relinquishing her only joy 
in life, while she hoped that she transferred 
all of his trouble, the curse of the evil eye, 
to herself. Having performed what was for 
her a great reparation, she left the church 
with the same sense of having laid down her 
burden as the most earnest believer of them 
all. She no longer felt any cowardice, any 
instinct of flight, not because the danger 
was past in her case, but because it was 
inevitable. She might hide from the detec- 
tive ; she could not hide from the curse which 
she had called down upon herself. She was 
at peace, not because she had any hope that 
God would appear for her own help, but 
because she was sure he would take care of 
Pierre, and her conscience was at rest, for 
she had done her duty and she could now 

14 


210 Pierre and His Poodle 

look into his loving, truthful eyes without 
shame. 

The priest stood upon the church steps. 
He had been giving away little religious 
engravings edged around with lace paper, 
and he handed one to Minka. It was a 
picture of Saint Anne, the patroness of the 
church, and a copy of Leonardo’s painting 
of the mother of the Virgin holding Mary 
upon her knees, and looking with maternal 
pride and love as the Madonna holds out her 
arms yearningly to the Christ Child. It is a 
picture overflowing with affection, for Saint 
Anne embraces her daughter, whose face is 
full of the utmost devotion for her son, who 
in turn caresses a lamb. 

Minka was not familiar with lambs, and 
she imagined that this little white curly 
animal was a poodle, and that the picture 
signified that Popotte would be given to her, 
just as the Infant Jesus seemed about to 
give it to Mary. She went directly to the 
police-station where Adrienne had said that 
Pierre had been taken, but she was hardly 
surprised when she was told there that he 
had been released and had gone away. She 
loitered for a few moments, expecting to be 
told that she was to be detained in his place; 


21 I 


The Chantilly Races 

but as nothing of the kind happened, she 
returned to the serpent-charmer’s tent, at 
whose door she found Pierre the centre of a 
joyful group. 

'‘Adrienne has gone after you,” he said. 
“ I have such good news, you never can 
guess. ” 

“ Oh, yes, I can ; Popotte has been 
found. ” 

“Yes; the Marquis de St. Angel has just 
telegraphed so to the photographer, who was 
going to arrest me; but he will not do so 
now, for they have found Signor Stromboli 
and the ruby necklace, and your father’s 
innocence will be proved, and he will be set 
at liberty.” 

Minka nodded, not in the least surprised. 

“And you are going back to the cha- 
teau ? ” she asked, as they walked away 
together. Her voice trembled, but she 
said it bravely. 

“Yes, we must all go for a little while, 
the photographer says, to testify at the 
trial; and the Marquis and Monsieur Lu- 
dovic and my mother want to see me. 
Will you not go to the chateau with me, 
dear Minka, for they will want to see you 
too.?" 


212 


Pierre and His Poodle 


‘‘Yes,” Minka replied simply. “Your 
will is my will now. I will do whatever 
you wish.” 

A great delight flushed the boy’s face. 

“ And will you stay with the Marquise this 
winter and study music.? ” 

“Yes, if my father will let me. It will 
not be hard for me to do so, since you are 
never coming back to us.” 

“I did not say that, Minka. I have 
promised to go away this winter for a trip 
to Africa with Professor Saumur to hunt 
wild beasts, and I would be glad to feel that 
you are safe with the Marquise ; but when I 
come back I have decided to study to be a 
tamer of savage animals with the dompteur, 
and when I grow up I shall have a menage- 
rie of my own, and I will buy a beautiful 
white horse and you shall ride on it, and we 
will travel just as we have done this sum^ 
mer, only we shall have a much prettier 
roulette, with lace curtains at the windows 
and a jardmikre iwW oi geraniums; and you 
will be my wife. ” 

There was a look of great surprise as well 
as happiness on Minka’s face as she said, 
“Why, the good part of the charm holds for 
both of us, for you are bound and so am I ; 


The Chantilly Races 213 

and my will is your will, and your will is 
mine.” 

“Even so, Minka, and we will have a 
little Eden of our own, with no serpent 
in it.” 

And then they heard Mademoiselle call- 
ing them to dinner. They were all to go to 
Paris the next morning by train, but the 
serpent-charmer wished to give a grand 
farewell performance, and to crowd the pro- 
gramme with her most startling feats. 

“Pierre will open the exhibition with 
Rigolette’s and Rigolo’s bicycle and swing 
performances,” Mademoiselle said. “Then 
I will dance with Coco, while Minka and 
Monsieur play. After that Minka may sing, 
and then I will give the tableau of the 
Medusa’s Head. Here is the pipe which 
Asoka gave me. See if you can play like 
this while I am holding the pose, in order to 
excite the sleepy little snake he gave me. 
It has done nothing but doze in its cocoanut 
bed ever since I have had it, and I want it 
to be lively, and coil and dart like my other 
beauties. I have so much to do that it will 
help me very much if you will fasten the 
snakes to the fillet for me, Pierre, while 
Minka is singing, and then it will be ready 


214 Pierre and His Poodle 

for me to bind around my hair just before my 
tableau.” 

Pierre complied with her wishes. He 
heard Minka singing “Roger Bontemps” as 
he lifted the swamp adder from its nest and 
fastened it to Mademoiselle’s fillet, carrying 
out Signor Stromboli’s dream of revenge on 
the very evening of his arrest. 

The serpent had seemed chilled and dor- 
mant in Pierre’s hands, but when Made- 
moiselle took her position, warmed by her 
throbbing temple and light hair, and awak- 
ened by the familiar notes of the pipe, the 
adder began to stir with the other snakes, 
and lifted its hooded neck higher than the 
rest. Professor Saumur was sitting with 
the photographer in the front row of seats, 
watching the tableau with intense interest. 
Suddenly his attention was attracted by the 
swamp adder. Frozen with terror, he watched 
it inflate its hood, and then swiftly strike 
where the blue veins crossed the white 
temple, and he uttered a cry of horror and 
fainted, for he knew that this was one of the 
most poisonous snakes of India. 

But the terrible ending of Signor Strom- 
boli’s day-dream did not come true, for the 
reptile was, as Asoka had said, as little 


215 


The Chantilly Races 

dangerous as a kitten, and had been rendered 
so by Asoka himself. Whether he thought 
that he was fulfilling his master’s desire, or 
suspecting his evil designs had determined 
to frustrate them, was never clearly proved, 
but, unknown to the signor, before giving 
the adder to Mademoiselle Tourbillon, 
Asoka had removed its poison sacs, and 
utterly innocuous it had struck against the 
smiling face in a transport of rage, as impo- 
tent as that of its giver. 

Little remains to be said. Nagy Pal, 
liberated by the Marquis’s efforts, was will- 
ing that his daughter should receive the 
education which the Marquise wished to 
bestow upon her, and consoled himself for 
her absence by marrying the serpent-charmer. 
He firmly refused to receive Zulu, who was 
also adopted by the Marquise, and in time 
took upon himself as luxurious habits and 
as aristocratic airs as if he had been born to 
the purple. He never, however, entirely 
gave up his bad habits of thieving. His 
morals had been corrupted by evil com- 
panionship. The rabbits in the park, and 
the contents of pockets in the drawing-room, 
were never safe if Zulu was near, and to his 
latest year he remained a shameless repro- 


2i6 Pierre and His Poodle 

bate, but withal a very lovable one. It 
seemed almost as if in his case thieving was 
a virtue, since he knew nothing of the rights 
of property, and his thefts were always 
prompted by his love for Popotte. 

Pierre sailed away with Professor Saumur, 
and remained with him not one winter alone 
but several, so that there is more prospect 
now of his becoming a naturalist than the 
proprietor of a menagerie. 

And will he ever come back and marry 
Minka.^ As for that we cannot say, since 
they are both still children. But when you 
come to France and see an especially clean 
and attractive roulette gay with flowers and 
white muslin curtains, then look sharply, 
and if you have eyes like Adrienne’s you 
may discover Pierre and Minka on their 
wedding journey. 








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